Trapped in a Nightmare II: Unreality
by Ph0enixS0ng
Summary: Part 2/2. After finally finding love in each other, Jack and Ralph have been separated once more. Will they be able to stay together despite being so far apart? Ralph, Jack, OCs slash.
1. Memories

**Title: **_Unreality_

**Author:** _AznEyes_

**Rating:** M

**Genre:** Romance Humour

**Disclaimer:** Lord of the Flies, William Golding

**Summary:** Sequel to "Trapped in a Nightmare". After finally finding love in each other, Jack and Ralph have been separated once more. They gain many new experiences in their now-divided lives—some for the better and some for the worse. Will they be able to stay together despite being apart? Ralph/Jack/OCs slash.

**Author's Note: **Begins a few months after "Trapped in a Nightmare". I would highly recommend reading that one first, but it's okay if you don't. Reposted because of formatting problems. The breaks indicate changes of perspective, periods of time, or flashbacks.

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**(01) Memories**

**"Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, and the things you never want to lose." —from 'The Wonder Years'**

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_Eyes wide with wonder, the light-haired teen slowly made his way down the wet and dreary streets of downtown __Surrey__. He was searching for something and yet, he did not know exactly what it was that he was looking for. The night wind was pleasant cool against his face; he smiled slightly to himself, rather enjoying its sensual caress. _

_Squinting at the drenched road sign that he was currently passing beneath, the youth realized that this was where he was supposed to go. His pace quickened as he now made his way along the row of townhouses, and he stopped suddenly when he reached a narrow brown house with a number 4 painted neatly on its white mailbox. The house looked very much the same as the others on the block—very well kept with a blooming garden situated in front and an expensive car parked in its driveway. Yes, this was truly a high-class neighbourhood, and the boy would most definitely have been intimidated, had there been anyone there to see him. _

_But, no. There was not. He was the only visible being on the street._

_He carefully stepped up the slippery front steps and let himself into the house. Then the young man soundlessly slipped off his shoes. His feet padded softly against the plush, forest green carpet, as he made his way up the stairs and to the slightly open door at the very end of the corridor. Holding his breath, he cautiously opened the door and peered inside. A handsome brunet was lying casually on the bed, resting peacefully. His eyes opened when the door opened, however, and his lips perked up into an impish grin when he saw the other male, his lover._

_'I've been waiting for you,' he said in a knowing voice, flipping his dark hair out of his face to get a better look at the youth's rather disheveled—but ever charming—appearance. He slowly sat up and opened his arms to the teen. 'Come to me, love.'_

_The latter did so, allowing his lips to meet his companion's in a deep—yet chaste—kiss._

_'I missed you,' the blond murmured, deeply inhaling the other's unique scent. 'I never should have let you out of my sight. I won't make that mistake again. I'm going to stay right here . . . with you.'_

_His lover stared at him with dark eyes, and the youth relished the swirls of love he saw, knowing the warm emotions were reflected in his own eyes._

_'I love you so much,' the dark-haired teen said, drawing his companion against him._

_'I love you, too,' the blond replied. He lowered his lover onto the bed and straddled his hips._

_Not a moment later, the two gave into their passion . . . Lips descended upon lips with bruising force. Hearts accelerated well past their normal rhythms. Hands roamed beneath clothing, not stopping until said items were stripped away to reveal—_

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_BREE! BREE! BREE!_

Grumbling irritably, Jack Merridew wearily rolled over and slammed his fist down on his alarm clock. He had been having such a good dream! Damn that blasted alarm clock to hell for waking him! He tiredly pulled his blankets up tighter around his body and was just starting to drift off to sleep again when—

'Jack? Jack! Have you gotten up yet?' his mother demanded, pounding on his bedroom door.

Groaning with fatigue, Jack his head buried his head under his pillow to muffle the sound. That woman had fists of iron, she did.

'JACK!'

'I'm up!' Jack finally replied, yawning widely as he did so.

'Well, hurry up! You're going to be late!'

Jack rolled his eyes. He and his mother went through the same routine every morning. After she and his father divorced, their finances had been rather unsettled. As a result of this, Jack had been forced to walk to school everyday, rather than take the school bus there. It was only a little thing, one of which only select people would probably mind, but Jack was one of those who enjoyed his sleep to excess.

Despite his attitude towards getting out of bed, however, the teen did not really mind. If walking to school was going to save his mother a few hundred dollars, then he would do it. The sudden changes in their lives had not been easy on either mother or son, especially since Jack's mother had had to buy a new house for the both of them, so he would do what he could to help out. This was only a small change in comparison to all the others; he didn't really have a valid reason to complain.

Sighing, the youth forced himself out of bed and dragged his feet across the hall to the bathroom. After stripping himself of his pyjamas, he slipped into the shower and allowed the warm water to run over his body, clearing it of its earlier fatigue. Jack hastily washed himself before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel firmly around his waist. Then he returned to his room.

Not ten minutes later, Jack was sprinting down the stairs with his school bag in tow. His mother tossed him his lunch in a paper bag as he was heading out the door.

'Love you!' she called after his retreating back.

'Love you, too, mum,' Jack replied. He easily jumped his front fence and started his daily run to school.

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Just as the bell rang to signal the start of the first period of the day, Jack flung himself into his seat between Fred and Lee. The former breathed a sigh of relief.

'That was a close one, Jack,' he said, eyeing the digital clock at the bottom of his computer monitor.

'Yeah, you came _just_ as the bell was reaching its last second,' Lee said with a grin. 'Nice one.'

'What can I say?' Jack said with a shrug. 'It's a talent.'

'And a workout,' John muttered, pointedly glancing at the blond's flushed face and sweaty brow.

'Meh,' was the curt reply, before Jack turned his attention to the front of the classroom.

Their teacher, Mrs. Levington, was standing there, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for the last-minute stragglers to run in. She was nice like that . . . but there was a catch to it. If you were caught out in the corridor after that door was shut, there was no hope of entering unless you had a note about a _pre_-mentioned appointment or whatever. Other than that, you had to get the notes from someone else in the class and hope that you didn't miss anything important.

Mrs. Levington flicked her dark hair away from her face and casually nudged her silver-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose, muttering quietly to herself.

'Tut tut. I just don't understand why the students must be late. It is only the second week into the semester for goodness' sake! I would think they would be _thrilled _to realize that they have a chance to start over again.' A few more moments passed before the young woman finally marched over to the door and shut it. Then she whirled around on her heel to face her students.

'Good morning, class. I hope you all had a restful weekend,' she said, her gaze clearly lingering on the students who were watching her with droopy eyes. Smiling slightly, she made her way to the board and wrote the title of the day's lesson in her neat cursive writing.

'Today, class, I have been forced to divide the two grades . . . yet again!' she exclaimed with a hint of annoyance. 'I ask that the elder students please refrain from making too much noise while I explain something to the grade elevens.' She turned to the left side of the class, where the grade eleven students were seated. 'Ah, yes, today we are going to discuss . . .'

Jack easily tuned her out and began browsing the Net on his computer. Since it was a split class of grade eleven and twelve students, her attention was constantly split between the two. This, of course, worked out to the advantage of the more mischievous pupils in her class. It was easy to get away with practically _anything _in that class.

A small box appeared in the corner of Jack's screen—a window alerting him that someone within the network wished to chat with him. Immediately recognizing the screen name, he clicked on the box and a slightly larger window appeared before him.

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_Lil John says: ey, u get ne nu newz fr: Ralf l8ly? _(Hey, you get any new news from Ralph lately?) (1)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: mehbe. y? _(Maybe. Why?)

_Lil John says: jus wond'rin _(Just wondering.)

_Lil John says: y do u hafta ask me? _(Why do you have to ask me?)

_Lil John says: do i nd a reason 2b curious now? _(Do I need a reason to be curious now?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: tru sae,guy _(True say, guy.)

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Jack briefly looked up from his computer screen to see if Mrs. Levington had noticed anything. As she was on the other side of the room, still briefing the younger students on the day's lesson, she hadn't. His gaze wandered a few rows away from her (to the "grade 12" side of the classroom), where John was intently typing up another message to Jack.

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_Lil John says: so, was dere ne ting or wut? _(So was there anything or what?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: ya _(Yeah.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: i got anotha lettr fr: him _(I got another letter from him.)

_Lil John says: lol _(Laugh out loud.)

_Lil John says: i swear, sumtimes its lyke u2 r marry'd or sumfin _(I swear, sometimes it's like you two are married or something.)

_Lil John says: __ur__ bf sendz u a lettr evry wk..least! _(Your boyfriend sends you a letter every week . . . at least!)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: n i send him twice d many _(And I send him twice that many.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: ie: if u hav ne wisecrax bout it,u bettr tink 2ce b4 u sae em _(That is to say, if you have any wisecracks about it, you better think twice before you say them.)

_Lil John says: i kno, n as;dl kfjasbb gasdkfj i wuv woo jackie baby! _(I know, andas;dl kfjasbb gasdkfj I love you, Jackie baby!)

_Lil John says: make swt swt lub 2me _(Make sweet, sweet love to me.)

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Confused, Jack looked up at John again. He almost laughed when he saw that his friend was furiously trying to wrestle his keyboard back from Cristóbal (2), the Latino teen who sat next to him in computer class. Glancing down at his screen again, he read:

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_Lil John says: __ur__ body ish sooooooooo hot _(Your body is so hot.)

_Lil John says: i lyke i lyke _(I like, I like.)

_Lil John says: ye ye. g-unit _(Yeah, yeah. G-unit.)

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Jack bit his bottom lip to restrain himself from laughing out loud.

That guy was such a joker. Cristóbal was new to their school, having only been transferred a few weeks prior. He had had no trouble at all adjusting to his new school, quickly being accepted for his rather mischievous charm. His dark hair fell across his forehead in casual waves, which only seemed to enhance his physical appeal. Cristóbal's muscular, yet lean, body wasn't too bad to look at either.

If asked, however, Jack would respond that the other teen's mysterious—yet sexy—aura was especially based on his eyes. They always held such a sincere expression in them that it was difficult not to be attracted to him. That, plus his intelligence and sense of humour, and you have yourself a—practically—perfect man. Sigh . . .

Suddenly, Cristóbal happened to glance up and catch Jack staring at him. Their gazes met, sapphire meeting ebony in a war of the wills. It was Jack who looked away first. Blushing scarlet with embarrassment, he ducked his head down behind his computer monitor. Admittedly, Cristóbal was the only person to whom Jack had been attracted to since Ralph's departure.

And speaking of Ralph . . .

It seemed that John had finally managed to reclaim his keyboard, for another message appeared on Jack's screen; this time, it lacked the perverse humour of the previous messages in "their" chat.

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_Lil John says: sry bout d. no doubt d u saw wut was happenin, ye? _(Sorry about that. No doubt that you saw what was happening, yeah?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: ya _(Yeah.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: im jus surprised levington dint notice _(I'm just surprised Levington didn't notice.)

_Lil John says: ya, well, itz her, innit _(Yeah, well, it's her, isn't it?)

_Lil John says: besides, she was busy w/ da minors _(Besides, she was busy with the minors.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: oic _(Oh, I see.)

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There was a pause; then another box appeared on Jack's screen, reading: "_Freddie would like to chat. Freddie says: ey, i ken c u guyz msg-ing each othr. add me 2 __ur__ convo!_" (Hey, I can see you guys messaging each other. Add me to your conversation!)

Smiling to himself, Jack glanced at the teen sitting beside him. Fred was staring at him with a look that clearly said, "ADD ME! ADD ME!" Jack sighed.

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_Freddie has been added to the conversation._

_Freddie says: so, wut're u guyz talkin bout? _(So what are you guys talking about?)

_Lil John says: i was jus askin jak bout ralf _(I was just asking Jack about Ralph.)

_Freddie says: ooh, n? _(Ooh, and?)

_Lil John says: he dint answr yet _(He didn't answer yet.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: yes i did _(Yes, I did.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: i sed d he sent me anotha lettr..uh..n we call each othr quite a bit 2 _(I said that he sent me another letter . . . uh . . . and we call each other quite a bit, too.)

_Freddie says: ooh, kissy kiss _(Ooh, kissy kiss.)

_Freddie says: lmao _(Laughing my ass off.)

_Lil John says: lol _(Laughing out loud.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: w/e..its none of __ur__ business ne way _(Whatever, it's none of your business anyway.)

_Freddie says: whoa, touchy _(Whoa, touchy.)

_Lil John says: dfnt'ly _(Definitely.)

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Jack heard giggling to his other side and he realized that Lee was reading their conversation off Jack's computer monitor. He seemed to find it very amusing.

'I suppose that you want to be added, too?' the former whispered.

His friend nodded enthusiastically, and after a few choice clicks of Jack's mouse . . .

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_Leeeee has been added to the conversation._

_Leeeee says: u guyz DO kno d he's jus pms-ing cuz he hasnt bin gettin ne, ryte? _(You guys DO know that he's just PMS-ing because he hasn't been getting any, right?)

_Freddie says: tru sae _(True say.)

_Lil John says: ya, i guess we cant really blame the guy _(Yeah, I guess we can't really blame the guy.)

_Lil John says: dun wry, jak _(Don't worry, Jack.)

_Freddie says: ya, it'll b aight _(Yeah, it'll be all right.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: grr..i'll get u4 d l8r, lee _(Grr . . . I'll get you for that later, Lee.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: 4 now i'll jus giv u dis -electronic kick- _(For now I'll just give you this. -Electronic kick-)

_Leeeee says: ouch _(Ouch.)

_Leeeee says: d 1 got me ryte in da ballz _(That one got me right in the balls.)

_Freddie says: d was..grafyk _(That was . . . graphic.)

_Lil John says: ya, dfnt'ly 2much info dere _(Yeah, definitely too much information there.)

_Leeeee says: u kno it, jonny _(You know it, Johnny.)

_Lil John says: lol _(Laughing out loud.)

_Lil John says: s'all gud _(It's all good.)

_Freddie says: ne hoo, bak2 jak's o-so-complicated luv lyph.. _(Anyhow, back to Jack's oh-so-complicated love life . . .)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: complicated? _(Complicated?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: sez hoo? _(Says who?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: i had him, he left, n now we'r tryin da hole "long distance" ting _(I had him, he left, and now were trying the whole "long distance" thing.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: wutz so complicated bout it? _(What's so complicated about it?)

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It wasn't until Jack reread what he wrote that he realized he had let on to his friends a little more than he had intended to. If one was to read between the lines, they'd see just how much Jack was hurting over this. Sure, he was usually able to shrug it off; it wasn't really Ralph's fault that he had to leave. However, when he was alone (or any other time that he was able to think clearly, for that matter), he would realize just how lonely he was now that his lover had left.

He missed Ralph, he truly did.

Last night's dream just served as evidence to that fact. He loved Ralph and was unwilling to break it off with him. If they had to be apart like this, then that was what they had to do. After all, they didn't really have a choice in this matter. Ralph's father had called the shots and things hadn't turned out to be in their favour. What a stinker!

They had been apart for nearly two months and had sent each other no less than one or two letters per week. On top of that, there were also their ever-mounting phone bills from having talked to each other for hours at a time (though Jack had to cut back on that quite a bit due to his current financial standing). Unfortunately, in those two months, they had yet to see each other.

That was a small wish that Jack constantly yearned for. Every night before he went to sleep, he prayed that he would be able to see Ralph again—to hold him . . . to kiss him . . . to love him . . .

The pain in his heart served as a constant reminder to Jack that his wish had yet to be fulfilled. Whenever he received a new letter from Ralph, he would greedily read and reread his lover's untidy scrawl over and over again, until he practically had the letter memorized. Better yet was the few times Ralph had sent a photograph along with his letters. Jack would spend hours just staring at the other teen's features, gazing at his dark, soulful eyes and following the graceful curves of his beautiful face.

His heart leapt at the merest interaction with his lover, and he constantly wondered if his love for Ralph bordered on obsession. In a way, it was kind of creepy, really. Jack even remembered the very first letter he had received from Ralph. (Actually, it was a reply to one of Jack's letters, in which Jack had given Ralph his new address.)

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_My dearest Jack,_

_It feels so strange to think. I haven't seen you for over a week!_

_I've seen the new moon . . . but not you. I've seen sunsets and sunrises, but nothing that compares of your beauty. I miss you like the sun misses the flower in the very depths of winter. The pieces of my broken heart are so small that they could be passed through the eye of a needle!_

_However, hope guides me. If I were unable to embrace that hope and hold it close to my heart, then I would have nothing. It is hope that gets me through the day and especially the night, the hope that after you had gone from my sight, it would not be the last time I set my eyes upon you._

_I miss you, Jack, and I love you dearly._

_With all the love that I possess, I remain forever yours,_

_Your Ralph _(3)

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A lump formed in Jack's throat, for he knew how much love Ralph had poured into that letter. The ones that followed were just as heartfelt, if not more so, always ending the same way: _Your Ralph. _That he was, he truly was . . .

"I love you, Ralph," Jack mentally said, shivering slightly with emotion. "I love you, and I miss you so much. I wish that you were here with me." (Little did he know that there was another teen, scores of leagues away, who was thinking very much the same thing . . .)

Jack desperately tried to restrain his feelings, lest his friends (or worse, Mrs. Levington) noticed anything bizarre about his behaviour . . . but it was too late for that.

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_Lil John says: ey, jak, ru ok, dude? _(Hey, Jack, are you okay, dude?)

_Lil John says: u havent sed ne ting in a while _(You haven't said anything in a while.)

_Freddie says: ya, man _(Yeah, man.)

_Freddie says: u dint even join in on our hole "lyori vs. everyone" convo, 1 or our fave-est rants _(You didn't even join in on our whole "Lyori versus everyone" conversation, one of our most favourite rants.)

_Leeeee says: n __ur__ luking kinda pale _(And you're looking kind of pale.)

_Leeeee says: u aint gonna hurl on us, r u, buddy? _(You aren't going to hurl on us, are you, buddy?)

_Leeeee says: iph u do, least do me da courtesy of facin fred's way _(If you do, at least do me the courtesy of facing Fred's way.)

_Freddie says: ey! shup u _(Hey, shut up, you.)

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Jack's friends really seemed to like flooding the conversation with their worries, huh?

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_Lil John says: jak! sae sumfin! _(Jack! Say something!)

_Lil John says: its not fair! dey can c u n i cant _(It's not fair! They can see you and I can't.)

_Lil John says: n if i stand or sumfin, den levington will kno d sumfin is up _(And if I stand up or something, then Levington will know that something is up.)

_Lil John says: tell me, jak! _(Tell me, Jack!)

_Lil John says: i wanna kno wut'z goin on! _(I want to know what's going on!)

_Leeeee says: u u u! _(You, you, you!)

_Leeeee says: evrytin alwyz has 2b bout u _(Everything always has to be about you.)

_Lil John says: shup, lee _(Shut up, Lee.)

_Lil John says: i jus wanna make sho d jak is gonna b ok _(I just want to make sure that Jack is going to be okay.)

_Lil John says: __ur__ ok, ryte, jak? _(You're okay, right, Jack?)

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To either side of him, Fred and Lee were watching him with concerned looks on their faces, no longer paying attention to John's words on the screen.

Blatantly ignoring them, Jack shakily maneuvered his mouse about and clicked the little "x" in the corner of his chat window.

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_Jack-in-the-Box has left the conversation._

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(1) No offense or anything, but I don't really know how many of you can understand "internet" language (or whatever you want to call it), so I'd rather be safe than sorry. The "translations" are in brackets beside the phrases.

(2) "Cristóbal" is the Spanish form of the name "Christopher". EEE! I just LOVE names from Latin-based languages (which includes Italian and Portuguese and stuff). They sound so nice, like Alejandro, Diego, Hernando, Santiago . . . I think that those were all Spanish. I seem to be especially drawn towards Spanish guys. Yeah, not that you would care, but I'm telling you anyway.

(3) Mini-Disclaimer: If you didn't recognize this letter, it was loosely based on the one from "A Knight's Tale". The one written by Sir William . . . er . . . Sir Orik . . . whoever and his friends.


	2. It Begins

**(02) It Begins . . .**

**"Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending." —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow**

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_My beloved Jack,_

_Our time apart has been nothing but agony! It is rather difficult to say whether time has lessened the pain or emphasized it. I find that I am unable to take pleasure in even the simplest of joys, as I once used to. As I walk home after school, it is thoughts of you that fill my mind. When I read a book, it is to imagine that you are sitting there with me. And even when I sleep, dreams of you embrace my consciousness._

_I miss you so much._

_With no more words to pass between us at this moment, I pass to you my very emotions . . . the strongest of which is love._

_I love you,_

_Your Ralph_

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Ralph MacPherson intently scrutinized his work, wrinkling his nose in revulsion. His now-completed letter to Jack sounded so . . . corny! He would be surprised if he found out that Jack didn't tear it up upon sight. Sighing, he read it again, but he soon realized that he would not be able to change it and still manage to record what he was truly feelings. The teen pulled out an envelope and hastily scrawled Jack's address onto it. Then he quickly stuck a stamp on its corner before heading downstairs.

'Mum?' he called uncertainly, unsure if she was home or not.

'Yes, dear?' she replied from the living room.

'I'll be back in a minute. I'm just going to drop something off.' Ralph made his way to the front door and slipped on his shoes. Not a moment later, his mother emerged, holding a feather duster in her hand.

'You aren't going to send _another _letter to Jack, are you?' Mrs. MacPherson asked, waving the duster around.

'Yes, I am,' he admitted.

'Well, I'm not going to stop you . . .'

'Okay, good,' the youth said hurriedly, reaching for the doorknob.

'_But_—'

Ralph groaned. There was _always_ a "but".

'—I don't think that you should let him control your life like this,' she finished.

'I'm not _letting _him control my life,' Ralph retorted. 'I'm doing this because I _want _to.'

'But isn't it a bit . . . much?'

The teen sighed.

'Can we talk about this later, mum? I have a letter to send.' He swung the door open and was already halfway out of it when—

'Get back in here this instant, young man!' his mother scolded.

Ralph whirled around.

'Close the door and go sit in the living room,' she said with narrowed eyes.

Recognizing her look as one of intense seriousness, Ralph did so without complaint.

'Now . . .' Mrs. MacPherson began, sitting beside him on the sofa. 'This isn't just about Jack, Ralph. I _adore _him. It's just . . . you've been acting strangely lately. You're moping all the time, and only leave that room of yours unless absolutely necessary. I receive almost daily calls from your teachers, saying that you haven't been completing your assignments. For goodness' sake, Ralph, you haven't even had a decent meal for weeks!'

'And your point is . . .?'

'You see! That's exactly what I'm talking about!' she screamed. 'You never used to talk back to me! We didn't bring you up to be rude!'

Feeling guilty in spite of himself, Ralph hung his head.

His mother sighed and placed a comforting arm around his shoulders.

'I'm sorry for yelling, Ralph. I'm just worried about you. You've never acted like this before.'

"I've never been in love before," he replied inwardly.

'I'm sorry, mum,' he apologized. 'What can I do to make it up to you?'

'Well, I'm not going to stop you from communicating with Jack,' Mrs. MacPherson responded. 'He's a nice boy, and if talking with him makes you happy, then I think that you should continue to do so.' She paused, then, 'What you _can_ do, however, is put more effort into your studies . . .'

'Okay.'

'And start eating healthier . . .'

'Uh-huh.'

'And clean up that room of yours! It looks like a bomb hit it.'

Ralph grinned.

'Done. Anything else?'

'Just one . . . Can you _please_ try to make friends? I know that this move has been harder on you than the others, but I at least want you to _try_ to make a life for yourself here.'

'What would it matter? We'll only move again,' Ralph said bitterly.

His mother sighed, knowing it to be true.

'I'll tell you what, I'll make a promise to you,' she said. 'If this living arrangement turns out to be just as bad—if not worse—than the others, I'll have a talk with your father. I'll tell him that these years have been hard on us and ask him if we can live in London again.'

'Where Jack is?' Ralph inquired hopefully.

Mrs. MacPherson nodded.

'But I want you to think carefully about this first, Ralph. Don't just do this because of Jack. I want you to do this for yourself. If we move back to London, it will just be the two of us. Your father won't be living with us for more than a few months at a time.'

The teen frowned.

'Okay, mum, I'll think about it.'

She smiled.

'Good. Now, I believe that you have a letter to send, do you not?'

Ralph grinned and set off once more.

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When he arrived at the post office, he wasn't surprised to see that it was almost completely empty. It was still very early that Friday morning (which Ralph only had off because his school had a "P.D. Day", i.e.: Pretty Dull Day), so only a few people were in line. Ralph joined the end of the queue and, in what seemed like no time at all, he found himself in front of the counter.

'Hi,' he said in greeting to the young man behind the desk. 'I'd like this letter sent to London, please.'

'Sure. I'll take care of that immediately, sir,' the other said.

Ralph grinned and turned to leave.

'Wait a minute, you're that new kid over at Endlewood, aren't you?' the teen called. 'My girlfriend mentioned you a couple of times. What's your name again?'

Ralph turned around.

'Yeah, I'm Ralph. And you are . . .?'

'Jackson,' the youth replied, holding out his hand.

Ralph shook his companion's hand.

'What do you think of Surrey so far, kid?' Jack asked.

"No, Jack_son_!" Ralph screamed at himself mentally. "_Not _Jack, never Jack . . ."

'It's cool,' Ralph replied offhandedly.

'And Endlewood?'

'It's all right. It's definitely different. I've been to a lot of schools, and this is one of the few co-ed schools that I've attended.'

'You don't say.'

'Yeah . . . So . . . er . . . This is an . . . interesting place to work,' Ralph said suddenly, trying to keep the conversation going. (It was a good thing that he was only customer in the post office, so there was no one there to tell him to shut up and move out of the way.)

'"Interesting" doesn't even begin to describe it,' Jackson said.

'So how did you come to work here?'

'My dad owns the place, so I help out whenever I can.'

'Really? I haven't seen you here before,' Ralph said, thinking, "And I definitely come here a lot!"

The other shrugged.

'When do you usually come in?' he asked.

Now it was Ralph's turn to shrug.

'Well . . . um . . . I'm not too . . . fond of crowds, so I usually come early in the morning.'

'That would explain it then,' Jackson responded. 'I'm not often here at that time. I usually just help out in the afternoons. You know, when it gets busier. I'm only here today because my dad isn't feeling too well and couldn't come in.'

'You and your dad are close then?' Ralph tried to ask casually, though he couldn't help but feel a slight stab of jealousy.

'Yeah. Ever since my mum died, he and I have been working here together quite a bit to try and make end's meet.'

'Oh, I'm sorry.'

'Don't be,' the teen said with a shrug. 'It happened a while back, so I'm cool with it now . . . Shit happens.'

'Yeah . . .' Ralph replied absentmindedly. 'Which school do you attend?' he questioned, trying to change the subject.

'Watergrove Public School,' Jackson said. 'It's a few blocks down from your school. Hey, maybe you can hang out with my friends and I at lunchtime or after school some days.'

'That would be cool,' Ralph said. 'I've been here for quite a bit, but I don't really know too many people . . . Do _you _know a lot of people at Endlewood?'

'So so. I met most of them through friends, but I knew some of them from my old elementary school. When my mum was alive, my parents were able to afford to send me to academies like that. Now I just mingle with the commoners,' he joked.

'Oh.'

'Um . . . Excuse me, Ralph, I have to get back to work,' he said, shuffling through some papers in front of him. 'My dad will _kill_ me if I don't attend to this paperwork in time. It was nice talking to you, though. I'll see you around.'

'I look forward to it.'

Smiling good-naturedly to himself as he walked out of the post office, Ralph finally headed home. He had taken his mother's advice—or rather, threat—to make friends much sooner than he had expected. He had to admit, finding someone to talk to (other than himself), was quite satisfying. There was only so much time that he could spend alone, thinking.

It didn't take Ralph long to reach his house, and he absentmindedly picked up the mail from his postbox before entering the front door.

'Some bills . . . a few flyers . . .' he muttered to himself, flipping through the contents. His heart suddenly stopped when he saw his name written in a now-familiar script—"Ralph Macpherson". He casually tossed the rest of the mail onto the coffee table in the living room and skipped up the stairs, where he would be able to read the words of his love in the private of his own room. It was better that way, for then he could savour those words as if they were caressing his heart, which—in a very real way—they were.

He ran down the corridor and into his room, shutting the door behind him. Holding his breath, Ralph slit the letter open with a letter opener. Ever so slowly, he unfolded the precious leaf of paper.

0000000000

_My precious Ralph, _(—he read, sinking down onto his bed as he did so.)

_I can feel my love for you burning within my very being. It is ever-present in my body, my mind, my heart, and my soul. I feel as if it is slowly tearing me apart, for it burns so passionately through my veins, it enflames my very spirit! And yet . . . I would have it no other way._

_It is said that one can only fall in love with somebody once, but I realized long ago that that was not true. Every time I think of you, every time I hear your voice or read your wonderful letters, I fall in love with you all over again._

_I miss you, Ralph, and I will continue to do so until I can hold you in my arms again. When that happens, I fear that I may never let go. You are my one and only._

_I want you as I have never wanted anybody . . ._

_I need you as I have never needed anybody . . ._

_I love you as I have never loved anybody . . ._

_You are always in my heart,_

_Your Ultimate JACKpot!_

0000000000

Ralph was more than a little surprised to realize that his cheeks were damp with tears. He chuckled in spite of himself when he read Jack's new "nickname" for himself. He gave himself a new one in everyone one of the letters that he wrote to Ralph, and yet, Ralph never tired of them.

The teen slumped backwards and stared blankly at the ceiling fan above him. His arm flopped casually over his eyes, enfolding his gaze in darkness.

'Why did things have to end up this way, Jack?' he muttered. 'The distance was so easy to cope with—even appreciated—when I hated you, but now . . .' He sighed. 'Everything was so easy when I hated you. Now that I love you, it only makes things harder . . . and yet . . . I wouldn't want it to be any other way.' He smiled to himself, thinking back to the time when he and Jack had been friends, before they had been enemies.

It had been back on the island. Ralph had wounded his arm when the airplane crashed and he and the others had swam to shore. They were only boys back then, but when they left the island not even a year later, they were men. Having to be independent like that would have that effect on a person, as well as bring out the evil within them. Ralph shivered whne he recalled Simon and Piggy's less-than-kindly death. Wasn't it kind of an insult to their memory to love Jack since he had been somehow involved in them?

Ralph sighed again. Even now, the phantoms were haunting him. He knew that it was not his fault and that there was nothing he could do about it, but he felt rather guilty to be so involved with Jack Merridew, their murderer (however directly or indirectly). But—despite all the complications—Jack was the only thing in Ralph's life that felt so . . . right. And if he couldn't have hope in love, what else could he have hope for?

'Before you, I had a rather monotonous existence,' Ralph continued, vaguely speaking to Jack over the distance. 'I would work hard at school, join a few clubs and teams here and there, move every few weeks . . . And then you came back into my life. You gave my life . . . meaning. The consequences of our reunion were beyond stupid, what with the bet and all. But if it wasn't for that, I would never have come to known you as intimately as I have. We have Ray to thank for that.'

"I miss you, Jack; I love you," he proceeded mentally. "I love you more than anything. My feelings for you are stronger than anything I have felt before. Even my former hatred of you was stronger than anything. Perhaps that's why . . ." The youth chuckled in spite of himself. "And yet, fear grips my heart—the fear that I may need you more than you need me, that I love you more than you love me. It's not true, is it?'

Ralph half-expected an answer from his faraway lover . . . and was sorely disappointed upon not receiving one.

0000000000-

'Are you ready, ladies?' Mr. Raconte inquired excitedly. 'And . . . Action!'

'You fought well today, sergeant,' Lee said in a dignified voice, holding out his hand to his companion.

'Thank you, sir,' Jack replied, nervously shaking the "general's" hand.

'Many men here owe their lives to you and many more still will!'

Jack's lip quivered slightly, and he drew in a trembling breath.

'That's quite a problem then, isn't it, sir?'

'Sergeant?'

Jack sighed.

'The battle is over, but I fear that the war will proceed for many months more, general. How many more of my friends need to die before this conflict ends?' A single tear coursed down his cheek. 'How many more of our children must we send into battle?'

Lee placed a comforting hand on Jack's shoulder.

'You speak of your son—William.'

'Aye, sir.'

'You miss him?'

'I do, sir. The pain only seems to worsen with each passing moment.' Jack determinedly avoided the other's gaze.

'I am afraid that I did not know William as well as I could have, but I had gathered enough to know that he was a good soldier, and a good man. The leader of his regiment always spoke quite highly of him. His determination, his ambition, his goodwill . . . Those are but a few of the qualities I had been told of.' Lee lowered his sunglasses slightly to look Jack in the eye. 'And in my personal opinion, it appears to run in the family.'

Jack smiled weakly.

'Thank you, sir.'

'You have my condolences for your loss, sergeant. Losing someone we love is never easy to forgive, let alone forget. If it was, it could not be called a "loss".'

'I must agree with you, sir and I thank you for your compassion. Your kindness and that of others—though it does not cease the pain—helps to nullify it for a moment. Ralph may be gone now, but I will always hold him close to my heart.' Jack froze, his eyes widening upon the realization of what he had just said.

Lee seemed to have the same reaction, and he glanced over at their drama teacher to see what he had to say about all this.

'Stop right there!' Mr. Raconte proclaimed. 'That was excellent work, ladies!' He clapped his hands together in a very feminine-looking way, effectively crushing their script, which had taken them no small amount of time to write. (Their teacher's theme of "the non-violent side of wars" definitely forced them to stretch their imagination, not to mention that there were only two of them to act it out.)

'Thanks, sir,' Lee said.

'Up until Jack's little slip up with his lines, you were both just _perfect_!' Mr. Raconte continued, as if he hadn't heard the teen. 'Lee, you did an excellent job playing Mr. Dignified General. And Jackie! There are simply no words! You definitely embraced your character—the sensitive sergeant. I particularly liked the tear. Very professional.'

But Jack hadn't heard a word of Mr. Raconte's praise. He was thinking about what had just occurred.

_"Ralph may be gone now, but I will always hold him close to my heart . . ."_

Well, it was true, wasn't it? But he wouldn't have felt so . . . anxious if he had not said it in front of his _entire_ drama class, of which most (if not all) of his peers knew about the "Ralph bet" from the previous semester.

"Well, why should I care what they think, anyway? I can't let the opinions of others rule my life!" Jack decided. " I flatly refuse to. I _know _that I can deal with their taunts and their judgements and all their other shit. I'm Jack Merridew, for goodness' sake!" He sighed inwardly. "No. I won't ever let anything come between Ralph and I."

Even as he was thinking that, a certain Hispanic youth walked by him, winking at him suggestively as he was passing . . .

0000000000

As Lee and Jack had completed their brief skit for their class, the next pair headed up onto the stage to prepare for theirs. The former couldn't help but notice the intense glance that Cristóbal had given his friend as the two had crossed paths, and he made a mental note to bring it up to their gang later on (minus Jack, of course).

"He's been moping for months," Lee thought. "Sure, he still tries to act as if nothing is wrong, but I know that there is. We're, like, the best of friends, so I'll _always_ know if something is up." The youth watched Jack for a while, quickly realizing that the other was deep in thought . . . again. Lee sighed. "He just isn't the same carefree teen that he used to be . . . _before_ Ralph. He's . . . grown up."

'Okay, ladies,' Mr. Raconte called to Cristóbal and his partner, Karl, from the back of the room, unknowingly interrupting Lee's thoughts. 'Three . . . two . . . one . . . Action!'

Cristóbal, who was lying on the floor with his dark blazer draped over his torso like a blanket, fitfully tossed and turned, pretending to be having a bad dream.

Karl rushed over to him from the other side of the stage and kneeled by his side.

'Tom? Tom! Wake up!' he exclaimed, shaking the other's shoulder slightly.

Cristóbal's eyes suddenly flew open. He stared at Karl for a moment before slowly sitting up, his "blanket" falling off his chest.

'Are you all right?' Karl asked in an anxious voice.

'I'm fine,' Cristóbal muttered shakily. 'It's . . . it's nothing, Nick. Don't worry about it.'

Karl just stared at his companion for a moment.

'No, it isn't nothing. Something's up.'

Cristóbal avoided his gaze.

'Come on, Tom! Tell me. Please, just trust me,' Karl pleaded.

The other chuckled darkly.

'Trust you? In these days of war, how can I make myself trust anyone?'

Karl sighed impatiently.

'I'm your _brother_, Tom. If you can't trust me, then who else can you trust?'

Cristóbal didn't answer, and Karl eyes suddenly widened, as if he just realized something.

'You had another nightmare, didn't you?' But his tone suggested that it wasn't really a question.

'They've just been getting worse,' Cristóbal said.

'Well, war does things to you,' Karl said logically. 'You just have to—'

Lee allowed his attention to wander again, already growing quite bored with the presentation. His and Jack's play was definitely better than theirs was. But anyway, where was he with his thoughts? Ah, yes . . .

"Even though we don't really get along to well sometimes, Jack is one of my best friends!" he thought. "I need to help him get over Ralph somehow."

"He doesn't seem to want to, though," another voice in his head interjected.

"Well, maybe it's just a phase he's going through. He and Ralph never actually 'broke up', but it'll only be a matter of time. I mean, come on! How long can a long-distance relationship last, anyway?"

"I don't know, but it's already been two months. That's saying something, that is."

"Who asked you? Get out of my head!"

"I can't. I live here."

"Whatever. I just want to get Jack out of his stump. He shouldn't have to deal with something like this. Life is too short for misery. Maybe if Jack had someone else to . . . distract him, then he'd be able to get over Ralph faster. Then maybe he'll be the same way he used to be."

"It's up to you. You might want to run it by Jack first, though."

"Why? He'll only try to talk me out of it . . . which really wouldn't matter, since I'd do it anyway. He needs to be set free!"

"He's not a caged bird."

"Isn't he?"

"Your theories make sense, but who the hell would you be able to find?"

Lee's gaze immediately settled on the dark-skinned teen performing on the stage.

"Perfect," he thought, and he sat back to enjoy the rest of the performance.

'Not arguing with yourself again, were you, Lee?' Jack whispered, apparently having come out of his own thinking trance but minutes before.

'Why do you ask?' Lee asked casually from the side of his mouth, not taking his eyes off the Spanish youth.

Jack shrugged.

'You always seem to have a constipated look on your face with you do.'

Lee turned to glare darkly at his friend for a moment before returning his attention to his new project.


	3. Lee's Plan

**(03) Lee's Plan**

**"Always plan ahead. It wasn't raining when Noah built the ark." —Richard C. Cushing**

0000000000

The weekend had passed by extremely slow for Ralph. He had accomplished nothing except to perhaps make one side of his living room couch more sunken than the other was. The days had passed uneventfully for him, as he had merely wasted the hours away by watching some TV.

He found himself quite glad that it was Monday, in which case he'd be able to follow his steadfast routine and not think about anything until the school day was over. His first class of the day was art, with Ms. Orville. She was an . . . interesting person overall, but Ralph never really had any affection for her. She was never exactly the pleasant type and seemed to enjoy scaring her students more than she did teaching them.

'Good morning, class!' she greeted them loudly as she swept into the room. Her dark, frizzled hair was in array as always, making her look very much like a porcupine with permed quills. 'Today, we are beginning our painting unit,' she said airily.

Ralph's mood perked up a little. He enjoyed painting . . . and any form of visual art, for that matter. It was something he was able to do freely, without any fear of mistakes. Unlike Jack, who had both acting and singing skills, Ralph's artistic expertise could only be "drawn" from art.

"Jack . . ." he thought wistfully.

'Everyone station himself behind a canvas!' Ms. Orville called. 'Mr. Macpherson! That means you, too.'

"Obviously." Ralph rolled his eyes and he—like the other students in his class—shifted his stool over to one of the canvases.

'Good. Now, the theme of your paintings is to be . . . abstract emotion!'

'What kind, miss?' someone asked.

'Any kind!' she snapped impatiently. 'Anger, sadness, happiness, love . . . Anything, Bradley!'

The teens reached for their brushes and palettes, which had been pre-prepared with paint by Ms. Orville earlier in the day. Almost instinctively, the majority of the class dipped their brushes into the red paint; Ralph was one of them.

With all intent to create a painting based on love, Ralph allowed his paintbrush to gracefully arch across the canvas.

'Oh, no!' Ms. Orville tutted, strutting over to him. 'That won't do at all.'

'What, miss?' Ralph asked, inwardly groaning. 'It's _my_ abstract painting, so how can it be wrong? Besides, there's only _one_ line on the canvas!'

'Yes, I know, but one horrid line will be the beginning of a horrid picture. The paint is not distributed properly on your brush,' she said. 'As you can see on the edges of your line, there are unsightly specks that are astray.' She pointed at said "mistakes".

'Well, this is how I paint. I always fix my mistakes later,' Ralph replied, not realizing that he had raised his voice and attracted the attention of the rest of the class. 'In the end, my paintings always turn out just fine.'

'Now, now, Mr. Macpherson. Let's not get cocky.' She not-so-gracefully shoved Ralph off of his stool and grabbed the paintbrush out of his hand. '_This_ is how you do it,' she said. She practically smothered paint on the brush and was about to streak his canvas in the ugly mustard yellow when he abruptly knocked it out of her hand. The paintbrush effectively painted a long streak across the floor, drawing shocked stares—and some appreciative smirks—from the rest of the class.

'Ooh,' the others said dramatically.

'If it's all the same to you, _miss_, I would rather complete this assignment on my own . . . _without_ your help,' Ralph said through gritted teeth.

The class held their breath, expecting her to yell herself red at Ralph for his behaviour; they all knew that she enjoyed screaming her head off at the smallest bit of provocation. At the very least, they expected her to chastise him. But she did nothing of the sort. What the students didn't expect was the sudden smiled on her face as she slowly rose to her feet.

'Good,' she said gently, contrary to her usual stiff, loud tone. 'You have anger, Mr. Macpherson. Your passion speaks to me! Now, communicate these feelings onto your canvas for the world to behold!' That said, she swept away to annoy somebody else.

'What a freak,' Ralph muttered under his breath.

Some of his peers nearby heard him and snickered softly.

Sighing, Ralph resumed his seat and returned to his painting. He reached for a new brush and, this time, dipped it into the blot of white paint on his palette.

"Here we go . . ."

By the end of the class, he had completed another one of his masterpieces. This one was a Picasso-inspired person, with disproportional and discoloured features. A pulsing red hue was at the centre of its being, gently changing from crimson to pink as it flowed through the rest of the mangled body. A backdrop of dark blues and greens completed the complicated painting. And its title?

"_Nos cedamus amori_". Latin for "Let us surrender to love".

0000000000

After school that Monday, Lee, John, Terry, and Fred made their way to Brown Cow, as was habitual of them of late. Jack, of course, was still serving his detention with Lyori as consequences of the bet months prior. The teacher seemed to never want him to forget it.

Lee and his companions slipped into one of the brown booths and signaled for one of the waitresses to take their order.

'The usual, Dee,' he said with a grin. 'And make it fast, too! We're hungry men over here.'

'You know, if you weren't such loyal customers—and big tippers—' the brunette added as an afterthought, 'I would have beat your rude ass in a long time ago.' She sighed and distractedly blew her pink bubble gum into a lopsided bubble. Then she popped the bubble with her tongue, allowing the little blob of goo to return to the refuge of her mouth. 'It's a good thing you guys still come by, you know.'

'What? Why?' John asked.

'Well,' she leaned forward, as if she was about to release a big secret. 'The boss is in a rut. Apparently, someone left the freezer door open overnight. All the food is spoiled now, so we can't serve it to the customers.'

'So what exactly _are _you serving now?' John asked, glancing suspiciously at the menu, as if it was _its _fault.

'Just some stuff from the other freezer,' Dee replied knowingly. 'But it's a lot smaller and we're running out of supplies fast!'

'Oh, I get it!' Terry exclaimed knowingly, his eyes widening. 'No, wait, I don't.' His facial features returned to their usual dull appearance.

Dee ignored him.

'Well, Brown Cow is a privately owned business, right. It'll cost Mr. B a helluva lot of money to replace everything. The only thing is, he doesn't _have_ that kind of money right now.'

'But I thought that the restaurant was doing well,' Fred said, seeming slightly put out that it was Dee—a fairly distant friend of theirs—telling them the gossip about Brown Cow and not his own girl, Wendy, who also worked at Brown Cow.

'I thought so, too,' Dee said, 'but I just found out yesterday that Mr. B has only _just_ been making ends meet . . . for almost a year now! Running your own business is fucking expensive! ' Her dark brows furrowed together with anxiety. 'I'm worried, guys. I've worked here for, like, ever! I don't want to have to be let go.'

'Is there anything we can do about it?" John inquired.

'Not unless you have free money to give away.'

Lee thought about this for a moment.

'How much are we talking, here?'

Dee narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

'Why? No offense, babe, but you're not exactly known for _gaining_ money. Word is, you lose more bets than you make.'

Lee flushed.

'Well, someone is _obviously_ exaggerating. And I wasn't planning on giving you _my_ money anyway.'

'So why did you want to know how much it was?'

'I think that I may just have an idea.'

Dee sighed.

'I don't know, Lee,' she said doubtfully. 'I don't think that you should get yourself involved in this. And why is this so important to you, anyway?'

Now it was the other teen's turn to sigh.

'This is going to sound pretty queer, but . . . it's because Brown Cow is more than just a restaurant to me. It's a place to chill, to hang out. It's a place where I can escape . . .' He trailed off, leaving them all to wonder what he had meant by that last part. 'Just . . . just trust me on this one, okay?' Lee replied with earnest. 'Just give me ten minutes to talk to your boss. If all goes well, things should be able to work out.'

'And when, exactly, did you want to put this plan of yours into action?' John inquired.

'If everything works out okay, then Friday evening is the best that I can hope for right now,' Lee responded. 'But, guys, I'm going to need your help on this one, to . . . advertise. It's going to take quite a bit of planning.'

'I'm in,' Fred said.

'Me, too,' was John's reply.

'Yeah, sure,' Terry said as well.

'Great,' Lee responded, grinning. 'Now, Dee, go get your boss and tell him that I have to talk to him. He'll know who I am . . . I think.'

'Yes, sir,' Dee said with a mocking tone. 'Is there anything else you want, _sir_?'

'Yeah, there _is_ just one more thing . . . GO AND GET OUR FOOD!'

0000000000

Jack's hand felt like it was about to fall off. He had lost count long ago how many times Lyori had forced him to write lines, among other things. For some of his detentions, Jack had found himself marking grade nine test papers or tracing and cutting out fanciful letters from construction paper, which Lyori had "offered" to do for some of the other teachers in the English department as a favour.

He glanced down at his leaf of paper, not surprised to see that his writing had steadily became messier and messier as one went further down the page. All the lines said the same thing—_I will never again be disrespectful towards Mr. Lyori or any other of my superiors_.

"This is bullshit," Jack thought, glancing up to glare darkly at the teacher.

Mr. Lyori was sitting at his desk, calmly reading a rather thick novel. He had started the book series (of which all the volumes were almost equally as thick) when Jack had started serving his detentions. He was almost through the fourth book now. That could never be a good sign.

Making up his mind, Jack tentatively raised his hand.

'No, Mr. Merridew,' Mr. Lyori said, not bothering to look up from his book. 'Continue writing your lines.'

'Please, sir, I must use the restroom,' Jack said, hoping that he sounded convincing enough.

'And I already answered you. The answer is "no".'

'But I _really_ have to go, and I'm almost halfway through my lines,' Jack said earnestly.

'The answer is still "no".'

'Yes, sir,' Jack replied, feigning defeat. 'But if a puddle appears on your floor in the next few minutes, I don't think the janitorial staff will be too pleased; nor will the principal, I presume. Say, isn't a clean classroom one of the requirements to be elected Teacher-of-the-Year by the rest of the faculty?'

The English professor finally glanced up from his novel.

'Fine. Out, Merridew. You have three minutes.'

'Thank you, sir.'

Mr. Lyori didn't respond, except to say, 'I'm timing you, Mr. Merridew. Best to be quick.'

Jack forced himself to smile as he made his way out of the classroom. As soon as the door was shut behind him, he screwed his face up and said (in a mocking, childish voice), 'I'm timing you, Mr. Merridew. I'd like to time _you _. . . to see how long you can stay conscious while I beat the shit out of you!' The teen went down the hallway to the water fountain, which was in the opposite direction of the restrooms. Obviously, he hadn't really had to go. He just didn't want to stay cooped up in that classroom for much longer with only a horrible git like Lyori for company.

When Jack arrived at the fountain, he obligingly took a few sips. Suddenly, he had an idea. Holding the button down with one hand to keep the flow going, he used his other hand to cup some water in his hand and splatter it over the front of his trousers. Then he attempted to hold the fabric as far away from himself as possible for inspection.

"Perfect," he thought. "_I'd_ be convinced." Grinning wickedly, he made his way back to the classroom.

'Sir, I _told_ you that I had to go,' was Jack's greeting to Mr. Lyori upon his return.

The strict teacher briefly glanced up from his book to observe the teen. His face turned an amusing shade of crimson and his hands started to tremble slightly.

'Mr. Merridew, you must enjoy punishment,' he said angrily, 'for you just earned yourself another week of detentions.'

"Meh," Jack thought, watching Lyori for a while when he knew the other wasn't looking. "I didn't know Lyori's face could become _that_ red." The teen slipped into his chair to continue writing his lines. "This was _so_ worth it."

0000000000

During the lunch hour, Ralph went to his usual table in the cafeteria. It was a rather secluded one along the edge of the room, but the teen quite liked it. It allowed him to be alone, to think quietly (or as quiet as was possible in the caf), or else work on some unfinished homework . . . Pfft! As if! He had hardly done anything productive since moving to Surrey. The best thing he'd probably done was not scurry back to London . . . to his heart.

Ralph sighed and retrieved his lunch from his backpack, but he wasn't really hungry. He merely unwrapped his sandwich and stared blankly at it for a while, as if he had forgotten what he was supposed to do with it. As was his habit of late, he allowed his mind to wander aimlessly and boredly picked at the food before him.

The teen was thinking about everything and nothing. His mindframe was, of course, centred mainly around Jack. His eyes dancing with laughter, his smiling face of reassurance, his casually tousled hair, his heart of gold . . . and his former life as a whore. Jack had spent a good deal of his high school life sleeping around with other people. It was doubtless that he had gotten to know his "victims" intimately, both physically and emotionally. And yet, it was Ralph who he chose in the end.

Ralph distractedly took a bite out of whatever was in his hand, which ended up being a bit of bread that he had picked off from his sandwich.

"But he's past all that now," the youth reassured himself. "He would never betray me like that, would he?" Ralph knew so little of Jack's life after the island. Upon their reunion, it appeared as if he hadn't changed at all. Though he was no longer the murderous child that he once was, he still seemed to have a lust for hurting people.

But . . . when he looked at Ralph, it was as if he was actually a person. Swirls of understanding and love would form in his sapphire eyes, and it was like there was no one else in the world but them. That was the Jack who Ralph had fallen for, that was the Jack who Ralph loved . . .

. . . That was the Jack who Ralph was missing . . .

The latter had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't noticed the small group of teens approaching him.

'Hey, Ralph,' one of the females greeted, smiling kindly at him. 'Jackson told me that he had met you.'

'Oh? You know Jackson?'

'Yeah, I'm his girlfriend.' She held out her hand. 'I'm Kyra.'

He shyly took her hand and shook it.

'And this is Terence, Diego, and Kristina—Kiki, for short.'

Ralph's head reeled slightly as he tried to remember all their names.

'Well, this might sound a bit forward, but we were wondering if you wanted to chill with us for a bit,' Kyra said.

'What? Now?'

'Yeah,' Kiki said, smiling. 'It'll be fun. We're just on our way to meet Jackson and the others.'

"Well, these guys are friends of Jackson, so they can't be too bad," Ralph thought, but he was still rather curious.

'So . . . uh . . . kind of hate to ask this, but why the sudden interest in me?'

'We saw what you did in Orville's class, man,' Diego said. 'It's not that we're scared of her or anything, but you're, like, the only person who's ever stood up to her like that.'

'Don't kid yourself, Diego, you're scared,' Terence said.

'Speak for yourself.'

'Why, though?' Ralph inquired.

'She's strict, is all,' Kiki replied. 'She gives out detentions like neighbours give out candy on Halloween.'

"Sounds a lot like Lyori," Ralph thought.

'So, yeah, you want to come with us or not?' Kyra asked suddenly. 'I hate to push it, but we're already late.'

'Yeah, sure,' Ralph responded, tossing the mangled remains of his lunch into the trash bin. 'I'm in.'

0000000000

Well, Ralph went with Kyra and the others to meet Jackson and . . . more others. Then they all had a sudden, extravagant lust for each other and they had hot, naked group sex!

Haha, just kidding, this is what really happened . . .

There were already two people waiting for them by the front gate, the apparent meeting place for the group. One conclusion had formed in Ralph's mind the moment he saw the six friends together, and that was that they seemed to favour the gothic rock look, complete with black clothing and leather bracelets. Upon meeting Jackson at the post office, that was one of the last things he would have expected. Oh well. They seemed nice enough, and they _had_ included him in their little gang. It couldn't be that bad.

'Hey, guys,' Diego called in greeting to their friends as they approached the others.

The two youths smiled kindly in reply. Ralph had recognized Jackson right away, for the latter had waved to him cheerfully upon their arrival. The girl standing with him soon introduced herself.

'Angelina,' she said shortly. (1)

'I'm Ralph,' the teen replied awkwardly.

She smiled at him, and he felt slightly more comfortable after that, until—

'Gosh, he's _cute_!' he heard her whisper rather loudly to Kyra after he had turned his attention away.

Ralph's face immediately grew hot and he nervously started shifting his weight from foot to foot.

'Hey, chillax, man,' Jackson said. 'We ain't gonna bite.'

'Sorry,' Ralph murmured, realizing that these guys were really nice people under their . . . style. It was rather odd. He would have expected them to have more of a negative attitude towards others and life in general (2).

'Don't be,' Terence reassured him gently.

'Yeah, maybe it's just nerves or something, but I noticed that you haven't really talked to anyone since you arrived here. And now a whole hoard of people is thrust into your face. It has to be a little intimidating,' Diego added.

'Yeah,' Ralph agreed offhandedly, wishing it was only his nerves that plagued him. 'Really, though, I should be used to it by now.'

'Why do you say that?' Jackson asked as the group started making their way down the street.

'I move around a lot,' was the other's reply. 'Because of my dad's job, we never really stay in one place for too long.'

'How long is "too long"?' Angelina asked curiously.

Ralph shrugged.

'I don't really know. It's hard to tell. Sometimes we stay for a few months, sometimes a few weeks . . . I think one year is the longest that that we've ever stayed in one place.'

'And the shortest?'

Ralph shrugged again.

'A week.'

'No!' Kyra exclaimed in disbelief. 'Pardon me for being so frank, but that must be _awful_!'

Ralph didn't reply; he didn't want to. He didn't really feel like talking about this, especially since it brought back such depressing memories of his past. The foremost ones, of course, were of Jack and their fleeting time together. That time had been extremely brief, for just after they had found each other, they were torn apart once more . . .

'So, Ralph,' Angelina said, seeming to read his discomfort, 'do you have a girlfriend?'

"Okay, the discomfort is back!" he thought bitterly.

'Uh . . . I . . .' he stuttered, wondering what he should say. Should he just tell them the truth and hope that they don't judge him? Or should he just keep that to himself, as his secret? Not a lot of people knew about him and Jack, and he knew too little about these people to be able to gauge a reaction from them yet.

'Well, hey, look who it is!' Kiki exclaimed suddenly, sparing him from answering.

'Hey, guys!' Diego called out in greeting.

'I thought that you had decided not to come. What? Couldn't you stand the ear-splitting noise of the caf any longer?' Jackson chuckled.

Ralph, who had been staring blankly at the sidewalk as he tried to think of a response to Angelina's question, raised his head to see what the commotion was about. His eyes almost popped out of their very sockets in shock when he saw what (or rather, _who_) was heading their way, twoextremely familiar people. They definitely looked older and more mature than the last time he had seen them, but there was no mistaking those two pairs of large hazel eyes—eyes that had seen much more than they should have by this age.

'I believe proper introductions are required,' Terence said nobly. 'Ralph . . . Meet Samneric.' (3)

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_Dear Journal,_

_I had the strangest day today. You're never going to believe this, but I ran into Samneric! _

_I was just by myself in the caf (as usual) when some of __Jackson__'s friends asked me to hang out with them. I agreed and went with them to meet him and whoever else. It started out all right for a while. We were just talking, you know._

_Then wham! The twins suddenly appeared down the street! Needless to say, there was a lot that we needed to talk about. After mentioning to the others that we had met before (though we obviously didn't tell them where nor under what circumstances), they took me to a small park not too far away from our schools. _

_At first, we just talked about simple things, like how they were doing in school, where they worked (some restaurant downtown somewhere), what's been happening in their lives . . . They asked me pretty much the same questions, but I gave them pretty brief answers. I didn't mention Jack to them. I may have known them for longer than I had known the others combined, but they were like _strangers _to me now! I didn't know what I could expect._

_After a while, it was obvious that we were all trying to avoid talking about the serious things. After being rescued from the island, we didn't really talk much on our ride back to the mainland, and I completely lost contact with them after that. But this was important!_

_We eventually found the courage to face those issues. They apologized for having followed Jack, earnestly saying that it was just because they didn't want to die on that "damn, fucking horrific island"! I silently agreed, though I still believed that killing people for one's own survival was one of the most awful things you could do._

_And, after all these years, I finally thanked them for sparing my life. It's funny, isn't it, how you never appreciate people as much as you could until it really matters._

_I don't know if our chance reunion will prove to be good luck or bad. I can just wait and hope it isn't the latter._

_I've definitely had enough bad luck these past few months._

_Ralph._

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The End. (Just Kidding!)

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(1) Sorry about all the names. I hope it isn't too confusing.

(2) Just trying to show that people usually judge others based on appearances only. Not cool, yo.

(3) "Samneric", for those of you who don't know or don't remember, are "Sam and Eric" (the twins from LotF).


	4. What If

**(04) What If . . .**

**"What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us." —Ralph Waldo Emerson**

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'But, Jack, you _have _to do this!' John whined. 'It's for Brown Cow!'

This was during the next day, as their lunch period was reaching its end. (It had only taken the others so long to bring up the Brown Cow issue because Jack had had to serve detention with Lyori again. When he was reunited with them, he was in a very sour mood and they had decided to leave him be for a while.) The group of friends was sitting in one of the stairwells, casually "conversing".

'Oh, come on, Jack!' Fred put in, popping a French fry into his mouth.

'Yeah,' Terry agreed. 'What's the big deal, anyway?'

'The "big deal" is that I'm not into that shit anymore,' Jack snapped. 'The "big deal" is that I don't _want _to live that kind of life anymore . . . The "big deal" is that I have Ralph now. I don't want to ruin what we have, guys. Ralph is the _real_ deal.'

'That was so sweet that I think I'll have to floss later,' Lee replied sarcastically.

'Bite me, Lee.'

'I'm afraid that's never going to happen, mate,' Lee shrugged. 'I'm straight. Sorry.'

'Just can it! _All _of you! I flatly refuse to be . . . involved in that.'

'Come on, Jack. You won't even be the only one there,' Lee reasoned.

'Yeah, we've already talked to loads of people!' Terry exclaimed.

'Oh, good, then you won't be needing me,' Jack said smugly.

'But you're the one who will reel in the most money!' John said with earnest. 'Everyone's heard of you and your . . . reputation.'

'_Former_ reputation,' Jack sneered. 'You don't need me. I'm sure that you guys will be able to earn enough money to save B.C.' The others had filled him in on the scoop just a few moments prior to their current . . . well, whining performance. Jack had been quite eager to help, right up until Lee revealed the nature of his plan to save their beloved hangout.

'Jack—' Lee started, but the sudden _RRRING_ of the bell cut him off.

Fred, Terry, and John obligingly bid their farewells and doddled off to their lockers to retrieve their books for their next classes. Lee had purposefully stayed behind, gently pulling Jack to the side of the corridor as a stream of students began washing by them.

'Please, Jack. This is important to me,' Lee said seriously. 'It's not just the restaurant that I want to save. You know me better than the others do. You know why I have to do this.'

Jack sighed. Seeing the pleading expression in Lee's eyes was almost more than he could handle. And yes, Lee was right. He did know why this was so important to his friend. Of their gang, Jack was the only one who would know (and understand) why.

'Maybe,' he finally said.

Lee broke out into a smile.

'Hey, that wasn't a "yes",' Jack warned. 'Just . . . just let me run it by Ralph first, okay, buddy?' He uncomfortably cleared his throat. 'Well, I have to go. I'll talk to you later then, I guess.'

He hauled his bag over his shoulder and was soon lost in the crowd.

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_RRRING!_

'Macpherson residence,' Ralph heard his mother answer the telephone from the kitchen. 'Yes, he's he—' She didn't even get to finish saying "here" when Ralph sprinted into the room and tore the phone away from her (for he knew that there was only one person who would call him). 'Ralph!' Mrs. Macpherson scolded. 'That was rude.'

Ralph felt a wave of guilt run through him.

'Sorry, mum,' he murmured, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. 'I'm just excited.'

'I know.' And she obligingly left the room.

'Hello?' Ralph inquired, his heartbeat already racing.

'Hey, babe,' was the reply. 'How are you?'

'Fine, Jack, just fine. Still missing you.'

'Me, too. Missing _you_, not me, that is.'

Ralph smiled.

'Hey, you'll never guess who I ran into yesterday!' he exclaimed suddenly.

'Is he as handsome as I am?' Jack teased.

'No, _they _are much better looking,' Ralph responded playfully.

'WHAT! You ran into Orlando Bloom and Brad Pitt (1)!'

Ralph laughed.

'No, silly, it was Samneric.'

There was silence at the other end.

'Jack? You still there?'

'Yeah . . . Sorry, it must be a bad connection or something.'

'Jack, you don't have to lie to me.'

More silence, then, 'So . . . Samneric, eh? How have they been?'

'Pretty good, more or less. They're part of this new gang I joined.'

'You joined a gang? Ooh, sexy.'

Ralph laughed again.

'Sorry to burst your bubble, but I was just playin'. It's not really a gang. Just some friends who hang out together.'

'Stick with the gang story, babe. It sounds more . . . intriguing,' Jack said.

'Whatever you say, love. It's kind of funny how I joined their "gang", you know.'

'Why do you say that?'

'They let me in their group after I lost my temper with my art teacher. I swear, she is such a freak.'

'Freak and a half, I'm betting.'

'Yeah . . . So enough about me. How about you? Anything new in your life?'

'Actually . . . Other than wanting to talk to you, there's another reason that I called,' Jack said seriously.

'You sound like somebody died. What is it?'

'Well, you know Brown Cow?'

'That restaurant over on Sesame Street (2)?'

'Yeah. Well, it's in a bit of trouble. The guy who owns it needs to replace some of his stock, but he doesn't have the money to do it.'

'So, what? You need charity money or something?'

'Not exactly. More like . . . permission,' Jack said awkwardly.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, Lee had this idea to . . . uh . . . _auction_ people off for a night.'

'You mean like sell them?'

'Basically, yeah.'

Something clicked in Ralph's head, and his earlier excitement of having heard from Jack seemed to wear off slightly.

'And now you need my permission to be auctioned off yourself.'

'Er . . . Yeah.'

It almost killed Ralph to say, 'You know, Jack, if you want to break up, just say so. You don't have to give me an elaborate, bullshit story like that.'

'It's _true_ though, babe. And I do _not_ want to break up with you! That's the _last_ thing I'd ever want,' Jack responded brokenly. 'I _need_ you, Ralph.'

'Why? When you have a whole line of guys willing to pay for you, why would you want to give yourself to me for free?' Ralph asked bitterly.

'You shouldn't have to ask that. You _know _why, Ralph.'

Tear welled up in Ralph's eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

'I do know why,' he replied softly. 'But what I don't understand is why _you_, Jack?'

'I asked the same thing of Lee,' Jack responded with a forced chuckle, though it ended up sounding slightly bitter. 'He really cares about that place, Ralph. I'm doing this as a personal favour to him.'

Ralph realized that Jack was trying to avoid an answer, but it seemed quite personal, so he let the matter drop. An intense conflict warred within him. Jack _did_ mention that it would only be for one night, and it _was_ for a good cause. On the other hand, did Ralph really want Jack to be with someone else? The green monster of jealousy rose from within the teen's spirit, and he desperately tried to fight it off. Jack had had the goodwill to ask Ralph for permission first, so perhaps . . .

'Jack,' Ralph finally said. 'You can do it.'

'I have your permission?'

'And then some,' the youth replied. 'If it's that important to Lee, then I think that you should do it.'

'Thanks, babe,' Jack said, making a weird kissing sound into the phone. 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.'

'I love you more . . . and I really hate to do this right now, Ralph, but I have to go. Mother is calling me for dinner.'

'Okay, that's fine. Good luck with the auction.'

'Thanks . . . Did I mention that I love you?'

'Twice.'

'Oh, okay then. Bye, babe.'

'Bye . . . Jack.'

And the line went dead.

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'I still can't believe that I'm doing this,' Jack muttered to himself for what had to be the fiftieth time as he half-jogged the distance to Brown Cow. He had just finished serving his detention with Lyori and had _just_ enough time to make a quick stop at the post office before going to the restaurant for the auction.

It was rather chilly that Friday night, but the teen was scarcely aware of the harsh winds nipping at his hands and face. He unconsciously quickened his pace and soon saw the coloured lights of Brown Cow shining in the distance. He stumbled into its crowded interior not moments later.

'Jack! You made it!' Lee exclaimed, shoving people aside to run over to meet his friend. 'Come on. Let's get you changed.'

'Er . . . Changed?'

'Well, yeah. You didn't expect me to auction you off wearing your school uniform, did you?'

'I thought it would add that "schoolboy" appeal,' Jack replied playfully.

'Whatever. Just go the staff's change rooms at the back and get out of those clothes. There are some things waiting for you there.'

'Can I just have a second to warm up, Lee?' Jack asked, making a show of rubbing his hands together and blowing his hot breath on them.

'But we're going to start soon!' his friend protested. 'The others are already waiting for us.' He craned his head over the large throng of people to glance at the small group of youths who were seated by the platform at the other end of the restaurant, which would serve as the stage for the night.

'Then let me be auctioned off last, instead of first,' Jack suggested.

'But what if the audience already spent money on the other people?'

'Then that's their problem.'

'I don't know, Jack.'

'Oh, come on, Lee. It'll make for a big closing at the end.'

Lee thought about that for a moment.

'Then I say it's a great idea! You could be a great theatre director some day.'

Jack rolled his eyes once his friend had walked away.

"Whatever," he thought. "As long as I'd get to work somewhere that's heated."

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'Aaand welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the first annual Brown Cow Auction!' Lee said into the megaphone in his best "announcer" voice.

His greeting emitted a loud and rather raucous cheer from the crowd, all of which were teenagers from the nearby schools.

'We all know why we're here, right? To save Brown Cow!'

Another roar was expressed by the flock, and Lee desperately fought the urge to cover his ears.

'Okay, folks, let's get down to business. Our first . . . er . . . participant is a lovely blue-eyed beauty from Oakwoods High. She enjoys eating pumpkin pie and taking long walks on the beach. This girl truly personifies the phrase "shop till ya drop" and is widely known throughout the shopkeeper community because of said reputation. Everybody, meet Valerie!'

One of the teens stood up and took her place beside Lee on the platform. She had long, dark hair and piercing blue eyes. "Lovely" was clearly an understatement.

Lee mentally gauged the boisterous reaction of the audience, quite satisfied to see the interested expressions on most of the faces there.

'Shall I start the bidding at . . . thirty dollars (3)?'

Someone in the back raised his hand.

'I have thirty dollars. Do I have thirty-five?' Lee questioned.

Another youth raised his hand.

'And that's thirty-five. Is there anyone with forty? Okay, forty it is . . . forty-five . . . Terrific. And fifty? Wow! Do I have fifty-five? Thank you, sir . . .

And sixty? Yes! Sixty it is. Going once . . . going twice . . . Sold for sixty dollars to the chap with the tweed hat. Please go and see John and Fred over there about purchasing options.'

Valerie lightly stepped off the stage to meet her "purchaser". Then the two of them made their way over to John and Fred, who were sitting in a booth with a bunch of papers scattered in front of them.

'Wow. That was a great start, everybody. Don't you agree?'

More cheering and clapping was the reply.

'Moving on . . . Our next participant is from St. Christopher's. Many of you already know him, for he was featured on the front page of the community newspaper as a local hero after having saved a cat from a tree. Don't let his lean physique fool you. This gentleman is a prominent member of his school tennis team and won second place for mixed doubles last year. Meet Chad!'

There was quite a number of cheering girls in the crowd as Chad stepped onto the platform. However, the number of swooning ones seemed to beat the former by a long shot.

'Forgive me for being so bold,' Lee said, 'but dare I start the bidding at . . . forty dollars? Okay, I have forty dollars . . . Forty five? Yes! Fifty? Fifty it is . . . Fifty-five? Very good, mademoiselle . . . Sixty? Quite generous, my lady . . . Sixty-five? Ooh! Chad just beat our last record. How about Seventy? Thank you . . . Seventy-five? No?' Lee seemed slightly put out. 'Very well. Going once . . . twice . . . And Chad is sold for seventy dollars. Please see John and Fred about your purchase.'

The attractive blond stepped down from the stage.

'This is very generous of you,' Lee said to the crowd. 'And don't forget, there are still many more for you to choose from. For one night and one night only, you can purchase the man or woman of your dreams. Save Brown Cow, folks. This is a place we all know and love. And we shall return after these messages . . . Just kidding. Let's move on, shall we?'

'YEAH!' the teens cried out.

'Yes, right after these commercial messages . . . Just kidding!' Lee sighed happily before raising the megaphone to his lips once more. 'Our next participant comes all the way from Greenfield High. He's what folks would call a "romantic" or some sorts. Having been born and raised in Paris, one of the most romantic cities in the world, this chap definitely knows what it takes to woo and woman off her feet. Having moved to the United Kingdom but a year ago, he has lost none of his appeal. I would like you to meet . . . Pierre!'

And so the auction continued. This was going to be a _long _night.

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There were about thirty participants in total, but only two of them were left, impatiently waiting for Lee to auction them off. Jack stood a short distance apart from the other teen, observing his surroundings in a sort of daze.

The crowd before him, though it appeared to have lost some of its energy, seemed to have only grown in size. Quite a number of people had walked away happily with their "purchases", but more people just seemed to be pouring into Brown Cow. Whether it was curiosity towards the clearly visible crowd inside the restaurant or interest in purchasing someone for one, wonderful night, Jack would never know.

'Okay, folks, we seem to be narrowing down to our last two participants,' Lee said; the teen seemed to have lost none of his vigour. 'Up next we have the pride of St. Anthony's. Despite being both the captain of the cheerleading team and the founder of the ski club, this lovely item also maintains astounding grades and an even better social life. If she has any flaws, it would be being _too_ perfect. It is my honour to introduce . . . Cheryl!'

The dark-haired beauty took her place beside Lee, flashing the crown a flawless smile.

'Do I have forty dollars? Forty it is . . . Dare I jump to fifty? And we have fifty . . . How about fifty-five? Okay. And sixty? Very good . . . How about sixty-five?' He nodded to a teen waving frantically from the side. 'And seventy? Yes! Seventy-five? Booyah! Eighty? Terrific! We're at eighty dollars. How about eighty-five? And we have eighty-five. Going once . . . twice . . . Sold for eighty-five dollars!'

Jack felt his heart beating faster, and he only vaguely heard Lee's usual ending of "please see John and Fred blah blah". Eighty-five? Well, okay, that wasn't too bad. Up till this point, one hundred and twenty dollars was the record. It was made by the attractive captain of the famed football team from St. Michael's. However, Jack felt nervous all the same. With his _former_ reputation, he would just be putting himself to shame if he couldn't beat that. But if he didn't, he wouldn't be different from any of the others and he'd be able to put that reputation behind him . . . maybe.

"Well," Jack thought, inhaling deeply, "this one isn't my call. It depends on how much people want to bid on me."

Terry, who was sitting beside him, noticed his nervousness and thumped his back in what he seemed to think was a comforting way.

'You'll be fine, Jack,' he said.

Jack nodded numbly.

'Next up—' he heard Lee begin.

"Here we go . . ."

'—we have the best of them all. He needs no introduction, but I'll give you one, anyway. For many years, he has been known as both the community heartthrob and heartbreaker. But let me tell you, folks, that this guy is a very dear buddy of mine. He's been around, there's no lie in that.'

Jack felt anger welling up inside of him.

"Keep going, Lee. You're doing wonderfully," he thought sarcastically.

'However, it's that "around" business that makes him so good at what he does. If you—yeah, _you_—want a dream date with a dream_boat_, then this is the man you'll want; a movie, dinner, and perhaps even some "dessert" afterwards . . .' Lee said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. 'Pull out your wallets and give a warm welcome to . . . Jack Merridew!'

The noise drawn from the crowd could have raised the roof (had it not been so skillfully pasted to the walls). It had to be the loudest cheer yet. Jack saw, to his satisfaction, that the faces of the other participants (who had chosen to stay behind and watch the rest of the auction) were very sour indeed.

'I take it you've heard of him,' Lee said with a grin, winking at Jack as the latter stepped up onto the platform. 'We shall start the bidding at fifty dollars.'

'I have fifty dollars!' someone cried out.

'Okay, we have fifty. But I'm sorry to say that isn't good enough. Fifty-five?'

Another youth waved madly in Lee's direction.

'And we have fifty-five. Come on, folks. I'm sure you can do better than that. Do we have sixty? Very good. And let's jump to seventy. Excellent. Seventy-five? Terrific. Mr. Merridew, strut your stuff! Let's see how far this crowd will go.'

Jack silently pledged to kill Lee for this later. After all, he hadn't made any of the _others _do this. Sighing inwardly, Jack turned his back to the crowd and made a show of taking off the leather jacket Lee had made him change into. He suddenly whipped around and faced the audience, revealing to them the tight muscles of his torso, which were easily visible through the sinfully tight shirt he was wearing. Jack tossed the jacket into the crowd and tousled his hair in a carefree way.

'Eighty?' Lee called out, and was immediately met by a few screams of compliance.

Somebody had slipped some money into the jukebox and it was now playing a very lively club tune.

'Eighty-five? Yes! Ninety?'

Jack began to dance erotically, moving his hips in slow, circular motions.

'We have ninety! And ninety-five? Excellent, mademoiselle.'

Now the teen slipped his fingers under the edge of his shirt and pulled the clothing over his head, revealing his body to the raucous throng.

'One hundred? And we have reached one hundred dollars! Do I dare ask for one-o-five? Fantastic. And one-ten? Wonderful. One-fifteen? Yes! One-twenty! One-twenty-five!' By now, Lee was practically jumping with joy. 'And Jack has made the new record, ladies and gentleman! Let's go for . . . one-thirty?'

Jack strutted across the stage and winked at the people—both guys and girls alike—who were cheering there. Then he made his way to the other side of the platform and repeated the sequence.

'Take if off, Jack!' someone screamed excitedly.

'Yeah, take it _all_ off!'

'Sorry, folks, he has to save some for his "purchaser",' Lee announced in mock apology.

The crowd booed.

Jack grinned wickedly and returned to the centre of the stage. Once there, he unbuttoned the top of his tight leather pants and leisurely pulled the zipper down. Then he slipped his thumbs past the waistline and ever-so-slowly started to pull the offending garment down. The top of his crimson boxers was just visible, before—

'Two hundred dollars!' a voice cried out over the noise.

A sudden silence seemed to wash over the crowd as they all craned their heads every which way to find the owner of the voice.

As Jack and Lee were slightly higher up than the others were, they had no trouble finding said youth. Their eyes widened in disbelief as a certain dark-haired teen easily slithered through the throng to stand before the two; no one dared to intervene. Jack noticed from the corner of his eye that Lee had a strange smile upon his face when he looked upon the other.

'That was a big money jump! How excellent, and how will you be paying, Cristóbal?'

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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: Obviously, Orlando Bloom and Brad Pitt are not mine. Not yet, that is . . .

(2) Mini-Disclaimer: -Random FOB accent- I no own Sesame Street -End accent-. Hehe, couldn't help it. Had to do the whole "Sesame Street" thing. (I just hope that I hadn't already mentioned in "Trapped in a Nightmare" what street it's on. Unlikely.)

(3) Sorry, I don't really know the whole dollars to pounds exchange. I found a website, but I think it would be tedious for me and for you, the readers, most of which I'm sure are more familiar with dollars. I really am sorry; I just want to be consistent.


	5. Where Are You? I Need You

**(05) Where Are You? I Need You**

**"Love is a strong word. It's easy to spell, difficult to define, and impossible to live without." —Anonymous**

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'Well, it looks like we're stuck together for the night, amigo. And hey, thanks for . . . er . . . donating so much money to . . . Brown Cow,' Jack told Cristóbal awkwardly as the two of them made their way down the street. He just couldn't say, "Thanks for buying me for so much". It sounded so whore-ish, and Jack was past that stage in his life . . . right?

'I didn't do it for the restaurant. I did it for you,' Cristóbal said in his thick Spanish accent (1).

'Touché,' Jack murmured. 'That's very flattering, but . . . _why_?'

Cristóbal suddenly stopped walking.

'I thought that would have been obvious.'

Jack stopped as well and looked at his companion as if he had just seen him in a new light . . . Not exactly, though. They were really just standing beneath one of the dingy streetlights that bordered the street.

'Er . . . Look, Cristóbal, you're a really nice guy. I like you a lot, but . . .'

'But?'

'Um . . . I have to apologize if I've led you on in any way,' Jack stuttered uncomfortably.

'You haven't led me on,' Cristóbal replied in a very gentlemanly way. 'You were just being you.'

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jack wondered. His thoughts were soon answered.

'From the first moment I met you, you had . . . intrigued me,' Cristóbal said, beginning to walk once more.

'But you don't even know me!'

'I know enough.'

Jack sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, hoping that it wasn't his old reputation coming back to haunt him . . . again.

'Look, Cristóbal, this probably isn't the best time to say this, especially since you just blew two hundred bucks on me, but there's something that I have to tell you.'

The other teen stopped walking again to stare at Jack.

'I . . . I'm not exactly . . . "available" right now.'

'Because you're with Ralph.'

'Yes, because I'm with—' Jack stopped in mid-sentence. 'How did you know about that?'

'That day in our computers class. You're a slow one, aren't you?' Cristóbal teased.

Jack smiled in spite of himself.

'So . . . you knew and you still . . . uh . . . bought me?'

'I had some spare cash lying around,' Cristóbal shrugged mildly.

Jack was feeling very uncomfortable by now, and it wasn't just hesitance this time. There was something very . . . appealing and mysterious about Cristóbal, and Jack could feel himself being drawn towards the other teen.

"No!" he scolded himself. "Remember Ralph!"

'Jack, I know what you must be thinking right now,' Cristóbal began, 'and I promise that I would never do anything to get between you and Ralph. I am a man of honour, and to do that would be . . . dishonourable. All that I am asking is that you get to know me better. Give me a chance to be your friend if not your . . . lover.'

Jack bit his bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

'Why do you have to do this?' he asked suddenly. 'At least if you _were_ trying to force yourself on me, then I could hate you in peace. But now . . . now there is no hope of that.'

'The last thing that I would want to do is hate you, so why would _you_ want to?'

"Because it's the only way that I can distance us," Jack responded inwardly. "If I can't do that, then there's no telling what might happen."

'Uh . . . Listen, Cristóbal, I don't know if I can do this. I . . . I think I'll just go home,' Jack said. 'I'll raid piggy bank tonight—and maybe for the next two months or so—and pay you back the two hundred dollars.'

'Don't worry about the money,' the youth said. 'It was a gift. I don't need it.'

'But—'

'But if rumours are true,' Cristóbal interrupted, 'then _you_ do. You don't have to give me your money to compensate for tonight. I . . . I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow.' With that said, he spun around on his heel and left.

Jack stared disbelievingly at the other's back as he departed. There was nothing going on between him and Cristóbal except perhaps the beginning of a friendship. Why, then, did he feel as if his heart had just rang a hollow note in his chest? Why, then, did he feel as if he had just lost a great part of him?

Why, then, did he feel as if he was in love?

0000000000

Late that evening, when Ralph had just been about to settle in for bed, he heard the phone ring down the hall. Knowing it couldn't possibly be Jack, he let it continue to ring until the answering machine picked up.

'Greetings, you have reached the Macpherson residence,' his mother's automated message played. 'We are unable to take your call at the moment, but if you leave your name, number, and a brief message, we will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.'

_Beep!_

'Uh . . . Hey, Ralph, it's Jack.'

Ralph started when he heard the other teen's rather nervous-sounding voice.

'Um . . . I guess I caught you at a bad time. Listen, we have to talk. It's important. Please call me back as soon as you can, babe. Thanks.'

The second beep, which signaled the end of the message, never had a chance to . . . well, beep! Ralph had dashed down the corridor and picked up the receiver but seconds before.

'Hello? Jack?'

'Hey, you're there!'

'Yeah . . . Sorry I didn't answer before. I just didn't expect you to call again so soon. Wow, two days in a row.'

Jack laughed.

'So . . . What's this important "thing" you have to talk to me about?'

'Er . . . Nothing big, not really.'

'It didn't sound like that a second ago.'

'I miss you, Ralph. I haven't seen you for . . . what? Two months?'

Ralph sighed irritably.

'You're avoiding the subject, Jack. _You're _the one who brought it up in the first place, too. Tell me what's up.'

'Uh . . . Sorry, Ralph. Just a second.'

The teen heard some faint dialogue. Apparently, Jack was talking to someone at his end. The former vaguely wondered what was going on.

'Er . . . I have to go now, Ralph. My mum just got home and there's something that she needs to tell me. I'll . . . I'll call you when I get the chance,' Jack said hastily. 'Bye.'

Ralph blanched.

"Okay, something is definitely up," he thought, a lump forming in his throat. "That was the first time that Jack left without saying that he loved me."

0000000000

Jack's face, already rather pale from the night's events, only grew paler by the minute as his mother recounted her day to him. This was truly turning out to be a horrible night. The worst part of it, which was also—coincidentally—the most recent, was . . . Mrs. Merridew lost her job!

'There have been so many rounds of layoffs these past few months,' she was saying, taking his hand within hers. 'I think we've had _six _of them in the past ten months. Our company is going under, Jack, but they're trying their best to stay aloft with those they can afford to keep.'

'And they can't afford to keep you?' Jack asked, trying to lighten the mood with a little humour. 'You're just so good at what you do that they can't afford to keep you anymore, eh, mum?'

A slight smile appeared on her face.

'Don't be silly, Jack. This is serious! I've worked for that company for . . . what? . . . five years? That's hardly long enough to be reconsidered when compared to the _ancient _employees.'

'But you put so much of your time and effort into that place!' Jack said earnestly. 'The least they can do is give you some reward or something.'

'They did, baby, but it's hardly enough to get us through the next few months. I know that we're already going through some tough times, but I fear that they're only going to get worse!' Mrs. Merridew said. 'Until I get another job, we're going to have to make some more sacrifices.' She sighed heavily.

'Don't worry, mum, we'll get through it,' Jack said, pulling her into a one-armed hug. 'We always have before; I don't see why we shouldn't again. You'll get another job soon. We'll be just fine.'

Despite his words, however, Jack believed that they were going to be anything but. It had taken his mother months to find that job! Things hadn't been so hard on them way back when, because his father was a very hard-working man, not the mad drunk that he is now. Yeah. Life was sweet then, he just didn't have the wisdom to see it until now. Since that damned island fiasco, things had only seem to take a turn for the worse, and Jack just did whatever he could to make a better life for himself. He looked for something that would make him happy. His dreams came true the day he came face to face with Cristóbal . . .

_NO_! RALPH! He meant _Ralph_!

"Oh, fucker," Jack thought, burying his face in his hands.

Mrs. Merridew, believing that he was overcome by grief of their situation, wrapped her arms around him tightly and drew him to her shoulder, like she used to do when he was still a young boy in preschool.

He felt like that boy now, and he gratefully leaned into his mother's loving embrace.

'I'm going to try my best to find another job, baby,' she whispered brokenly. 'But the unemployment rates in Britain (2) are so high right now! I don't know how long it will take me to.'

'I'll help you, mum, and I'll try to find a part-time job myself. You know, just to earn a little bit of cash for us.'

'Oh, Jack, you're so generous. But I could never ask that of you!' she exclaimed, pulling away to look him in the eye. 'You'd be giving away your free time—'

'—to help earn us a living,' Jack finished for her. 'Besides, you didn't ask; I offered. Lots of guys my age have gone through a dozen jobs already, mum. And . . . I've just taken it for granted that I would never have to. Things have . . . changed since then.'

'Yeah, but some things never will,' she said, lovingly stroking his back. '_Never_, baby.'

0000000000

_Faces._

_They were cruel faces of darkness, glaring at him with red eyes. Ralph felt trapped in their lair of shadows. Every which way he turned, unseeing eyes would stare into him, making him feel as if his very soul was exposed for the world to see._

_Twisting . . ._

_Turning . . ._

_Mocking . . ._

_Now there were hands as well. What seemed like hundreds of hands descended upon his mind, grasping at the frail thoughts encompassed within it. The hands were positioned in various ways. Some were claw-like, tearing apart his heart. Others were in tight fists, beating him mercilessly, heedless of his pleads to stop. The last had to be the worst . . . A single pair of pale hands wound their way through the forest of black, extending out to him with open, welcome palms. However, every time Ralph tried to reach for them, they would vanish once more beneath an onslaught of darkness. _

_Somehow—intuitively, he supposed—the teen knew that he had to grab of hold of those hands. Somehow, he knew that the person who they belonged to was the only one who could purge his spirit. Somehow, he knew that he would never achieve this goal, never be able to grasp those hands and feel their support within him._

_'Ralph . . .' a voice said, trailing away into mystery; the pale hands forced their way through the masses of darkness once more. 'Come to me . . .'_

_'I'm trying!' Ralph wailed, frustrated by his futile attempts to escape this madness._

_'Ralph . . .' it repeated. 'Come to me . . .'_

_'Ralph . . .' the faces echoed. _

_'Ralph . . .'_

0000000000

With a start, Ralph fell off his bed. The blankets were twisted uncomfortably around his legs, and he vainly tried to peel them off. It had definitely been a strange dream, though it made him question the philosophical meaning behind it.

Unwittingly, a remembered quote entered his head:

"_Better never to have met you in my dreams than to wake up to hands that aren't there_."

He couldn't quite recall who had said that, though it was probably just a quote he had come across in some book or other, signed "Anonymous". Whatever. The creator of the quote wasn't important, but the content.

'Damn you, Jack!' he cursed the darkness. 'DAMN YOU!'

0000000000

'Um . . . Hi, Cristóbal,' Jack said nervously, catching sight of the other teen before school the next morning. The former had actually arrived early for once, if only to speak to the Spaniard.

'Hola,' Cristóbal replied with a smile.

'Hey, listen, man, I'm really sorry about last night. I felt terrible.'

'Felt?'

'_Feel_,' Jack automatically corrected himself. 'Is there any way I could make it up to you?'

The other teen thought about it for a moment, his brows furrowed in thought.

'Spend the lunchtime with me?' he asked shyly.

'Uh . . . You're not asking me out, are you?'

Cristóbal laughed.

'Stop being so paranoid, Jack! I ask only that we be . . . friends.'

'Friends? Okay, yes, friends I can handle.'

'Good, and when I am saying "friends", I mean with advantages of course.'

'Cristóbal!' Jack exclaimed, flushing blatantly.

The other teen laughed again.

'It was just a joke, Jack,' he said. 'I joke only!'

'So . . . where do you want to meet up then?'

'The caf is always good place to start. Where we go from there . . . Well, it is up to you.'

Jack's face became redder, if possible, upon hearing "up".

"Why is that affecting me?" Jack wondered. "Sure, he's an attractive guy. And he has that cute little Spanish accent. And he's _definitely_ fit—he could probably last for hours. And he seems to genuinely like me. And . . ."

"GAH! What are you doing!" demanded the voice of reason. "He's not Ralph!"

"I know, so I shouldn't be having sexual thoughts about him, right?"

"Oh, now these thoughts are 'sexual'. Since when?"

"Huh?"

"Well, you haven't exactly had 'sexual thoughts' about him. You just flush every time he says something that can have even the _slightest_ implication of . . . you know.'

"That's not _my_ fault!"

"No, it isn't. It's the little-man-who-lives-in-your-head's fault, right?"

"That would be you."

"Fuck you. My existence is a result of _your_ filthy, filthy, _filthy_ mind."

"Why you little—"

'Jack?' Cristóbal asked, interrupting his inner argument. 'Are you okay?'

Jack sighed and forced a smile on his face.

'I'm fine,' he responded charmingly.

'Good.'

'Right.'

'Yes.'

'Uh . . . I guess I'll just meet you later then.' He turned to go.

'Wait, Jack . . .'

Jack tensed slightly and whirled around to face him once more.

'Shall we go to class together?' Cristóbal asked.

The other teen relaxed noticeably.

'Sure. We should get there nice and early, too. I want to give Ms. Levington a heart attack.'

'That is cruel, Jack.'

'Meh. It'll be fun. . . I just need to make a quick stop to my locker first

They obligingly made their way down the corridor to Jack's locker. Unfortunately, when he opened it, a large pile of books and homework papers fell on top of his and scattered to the floor.

'Holy shit! Jack, are you all right?'

Jack was currently rubbing at his forehead, which had taken most of the brunt.

'I think so,' he replied, his head reeling. 'I'm just a little dizzy. Whoa, that's never happened before . . . at least, I don't think it has.'

'Do you need to see the school nurse?'

'Nah, I'm fine,' Jack said.

'But . . . you're bleeding.'

'Huh?' Almost immediately, his senses cleared up and he was able to perceive a wet, sticky substance on his fingertips. 'Crap,' he muttered under his breath.

By now, other students in the hallway had noticed the commotion.

'Hey, Jack, man, you okay?' someone asked.

'Yeah, what happened?' another inquired.

'Ouch. That looks like it _kills_.'

'That's what you get for never cleaning your locker, eh, buddy?'

'Screw off,' Jack muttered, and the curious teens abruptly left him alone, though more than a few glanced at him every now and then.

Cristóbal chuckled softly.

'It may have been easy for you to get_ them _to leave you alone, but _I _won't. Let me see it.' He took Jack's chin in his hand and tilted his head in a way that light would filter onto the wound. 'Well,' he began, using his other hand to brush some stray hairs away, 'it doesn't look too bad, but I still think that you should get the nurse to check it out.'

'Don't be stupid, I'm fine,' the other teen insisted. 'I just need to wash it off.' His gaze suddenly fell to the belongings littering the hallway. 'I guess I should pick some of this stuff up first though, huh?' He slowly kneeled down and started gathering his papers.

Without saying a word, Cristóbal followed suit, collecting the ones that had fallen further down the hall. Finally, there was only one sheet left. When they both leaned in to take it, their hands brushed softly; Jack immediately snapped his hand away.

'Uh . . . Here,' Cristóbal said, handing it to his companion.

'Thanks,' Jack muttered, unable to meet his gaze.

"This is _so _embarrassing!"

He was not exactly embarrassed by the fact that their hands brushed. I mean, come on! It was so cliché that it just lost its "cuteness". No. He was embarrassed that Cristóbal had to see what was on that paper. Written all over it, in Jack's handwriting, was:

_I love Ralph_

_Ralph + Jack Love_

_Ralph Ralph Ralph_

It was just a scrap sheet of paper that Jack tended to scrawl on when he was bored in class, but he had never intended for anyone to see it . . . So why—oh why—did _Cristóbal _have to see it?

_RING!_

The first bell rang, signaling the five-minute limit for everyone to get to his homeroom class. All around them, the other students started making their way to class.

'So . . . shall it be the classroom, the restroom, the nurse's room, or the bedroom?' Cristóbal asked with a grin.

Jack rolled his eyes, wondering if the other had always been this horny or if he was only like this today.

'That was clever,' he said sarcastically. 'Did you think that up all by yourself?'

'You know it.'

Without bothering to reply, Jack unceremoniously stuff the papers at the bottom of his locker before making a move to stand.

'Whoa . . .' he murmured, clutching at his head again when the room began to spin.

'Jack?'

Jack sighed in defeat.

'Okay,' he said, shoving his locker closed. 'Let's go to the nurse's office.'

0000000000

(1) I didn't know until this year that there are actually "different" Spanish accents, did you? Man, do I feel . . . er . . . slightly stupid. Apparently, the accents (as well as the slang, obviously) differ from Mexico to Puerto Rico to Spain to Colombia to Venezuela to . . . I think you get the point. The ones that are located close together are similar, but then again, different parts of the country can also have different accents. Bizarre, huh? Just as a side note, let's say Cristóbal is from Spain. Apparently, Spain Spanish (the language) is the . . . I don't know . . . _highest _form of Spanish. I just heard that, though! I mean no offense to other people! Please don't throw moldy bananas at me. -Dodges sudden torrent of bananas-. Grr-ness to those damn plátanos.

(2) I don't really know the statistics on British unemployment, but it doesn't really matter. The point is that they're really high in _this _story.


	6. Chances

**(06) The "Phase"**

**"Every good friendship begins with strangers." —Anonymous**

0000000000

_Knock. Knock._

'Come in,' a voice called sweetly from the nurse's office.

Cristóbal pushed the door open.

'Who are you?' he asked, helping Jack into the small room.

'Miss deRoi,' the young woman replied, making her way over to them. 'I'm the new school nurse.'

"Like, damn," Jack thought. "Either I'm hallucinating, or the new school nurse is fucking _hot_!" He glanced at Cristóbal for confirmation and was reassured to see that interest was written all over his face as well.

'Y-you're the nurse?' Cristóbal stuttered.

'Uh-huh . . . Now, which one of you is hurt?' she questioned, looking from one boy to the other. 'Ah, you,' she said to Jack. 'Come and sit in this chair over here and I'll look you over.'

Jack swallowed and sat down in the chair, allowing her to gently run her slim fingers over his head wound.

'It doesn't look bad. You boys have nothing to worry about. It's just a slight knock to the head,' Miss deRoi told them.

'Are you sure?' Cristóbal asked anxiously.

'Positive,' she replied with a smile.

"She's much too happy for a nurse," Jack thought. "Aren't they supposed to be all depressed or something from seeing people who are sick and wounded and stuff?"

'Unfortunately, there's not really much I can do about it,' she said, looking at Cristóbal.

'No medication or anything?' the teen inquired.

'Nope.' She looked at Jack again. 'It's nothing serious, but it's probably a bugger, innit? I can give you an icepack if you'd like.'

'That would be great,' Jack muttered.

'Okay. Give me two seconds and I'll go get it for you.' With that said, she disappeared into the next room.

'How are you feeling, Jack?' Cristóbal asked, leaning in close to the other teen to inspect the wound.

"Other than the uncomfortable feeling I'm having from you standing at such a close proximity from me, I'm just dandy," Jack thought, though he knew better than to say such aloud.

'I've been better,' he said offhandedly. 'Disappointed though. I _really_ wanted to freak out Ms. Levington.'

Cristóbal laughed.

'I'm sure that there will be other times, love.'

Jack started. Had Cristóbal just called him "love"? What happened to being "just friends"? Cristóbal had _promised_ that he would never do anything to get between Jack and Ralph, so what the hell did he think he was doing!

Not wanting to hurt his head anymore than it already did, Jack chalked the matter up as a slip of the tongue and determinedly avoided the other's gaze.

'Er . . . Aren't you going to be late for class?' Jack asked the floor.

'Yes, but that's okay,' Cristóbal reassured him. 'I'll just tell the prof that you had been involved in a horrific accident this morning and were too mentally distressed to logically venture out into the oh-so-crowded corridors of our school that I felt a great compulsion and duty to escort you, regardless of the resulting tardiness or consequences.'

Confused, Jack glanced up to look at Cristóbal's beaming face.

'Translation—' the latter said, '"I'm late because Jack was hurt and I had to help". If that isn't a good enough excuse, I don't know what would be.'

'Fair enough. Just for the record though, it probably _isn't _a good enough excuse.'

'Why not?'

'Because it's me.'

'I see . . .'

A few minutes of silence passed before Miss deRoi reentered the room.

'Sorry it took me so long,' she apologized, placing a bag of ice into Jack's hand. 'The freezer in the staff room is not too organized at the moment and I had difficulty getting the ice out without having frozen dinners pile on top of me.'

'That's okay,' Jack replied, smiling with gratitude.

_Ring._

'Oh dear, and now I've made you late for your next class!'

'That's okay,' Cristóbal echoed Jack, trying to reassure the getting-frantic nurse.

'Well, all right, but the least I can do is write you boys a note to explain the situation to your teacher.' She turned towards her desk and bent over to search one of the bottom drawers for a pen and some paper, leaving an oh-so-wonderful view for the teens.

Cristóbal winked at Jack, indicating the taut "derrière" with a slight tilt of his head.

Jack tried to appear uninterested. He was having a hard time enough trying to stem his guilty feelings for being with Cristóbal when he still had Ralph, so why should he add to his list of sins? Okay, "sins" is a harsh word, but the principle of the matter was that Jack felt guilty enough as it was.

"But . . . wow . . . she must work out,' he thought, allowing himself a brief glimpse. "Wait . . . AHH! NO! STOP LOOKING!" he scolded himself.

'Er . . . No, Miss, I think that I'll just explain the situation to my teacher. I'm sure she'll understand.' Without a backwards glance, lest he felt tempted to stay longer, Jack fled from the office and into the corridor. He only managed to make it about a few doors down before someone grabbed his arm. 'Gah!'

'Wait, Jack, it's just me,' Cristóbal said soothingly, releasing him.

'Holy shit, Cristóbal, you almost gave me a heart attack,' Jack claimed, grasping at his chest.

'Sorry. That wasn't my intention. God knows that I don't want any more harm to come to you than that what you already have, if an "almost heart attack" counts as actual. Anyway, where are you going in such a hurry?'

'Uh . . . Class.'

'Ah, right,' Cristóbal said, although he didn't seem entirely convinced.

Jack sighed.

'So . . . um . . . Let's go then. There's no point in being later than we already are, right?'

'Wait . . . Jack . . .'

Jack was about to turn around when—

_BEEP BEEP BEEP!_

'Shit,' he muttered. 'Who the hell decides to have a fire drill this early in the day?' He rolled his eyes.

'Maybe it isn't a drill,' Cristóbal suggested.

'Maybe,' Jack replied.

The two teens allowed themselves to be swept away by the crowd that was steadily filling the corridor as the students made their way to the nearest exit.

'Come on, people, keep it moving!' an official-sounding voice was saying. 'This is not a drill!'

One of the other teens shuffling nearby sighed and rolled his eyes.

'They _always_ say that,' he said pointedly to Jack.

Jack was about to mutter something in reply when a frantic freshman roughly brushed past him, upsetting his sense of balance.

'Fuck,' he murmured, bracing himself for the trampling of many feet.

'Easy there, Jack,' someone said, and strong hands grabbed Jack's biceps and placed him upright once more.

Jack turned around to express his gratitude to his rescuer.

'Thanks, Cristóbal,' he said, smiling.

'Don't mention it.'

'No, really.'

The other teen shrugged.

'I just happened to be at the right place at the right time.'

"Are you planning on coming to _my_ place to spend some time?" Jack unwillingly thought. "Aw, fuck it. I'm such a perv! Why the _fuck_ am I thinking of Cristóbal like this?"

After some time of scurrying about the corridors like rabid hamsters, the two boys finally made it outside and into the fresh air.

'Finally!' Jack sighed.

'What? Don't stop!' a panicked youngster exclaimed. 'We're not far enough away from the school yet! I'd rather _not_ get burned to bits, thank you.'

Jack was about to beat the other kid up for mouthing off, but Cristóbal beat him to it.

_WHAM_!

'Ow!' the freshman whined, clutching at his now-bruised cheek.

'Do you have something else to say, kid?' Cristóbal demanded.

The other fearfully looked his superior in the eye and disappeared into the crowd.

'You're going to get in shit for that, you know,' Jack told his companion, knowing that he would be surprised if the latter got away with that punch. (That is to say, evaded any form of punishment. The young teen would undoubtedly tell a teacher or two.)

Cristóbal shrugged.

'Whatever. It was worth it.'

Jack grinned. Who would have thought that Cristóbal had a slightly sadistic side to him? He seemed so innocent . . . most of the time. Well, the times when he _wasn't_ hitting on Jack.

'MR. LYORI!' they suddenly heard someone's call; it carried above the raucous noise of the students crowded outside. 'SOME GUY PUNCHED ME!'

Jack saw Cristóbal paled and, from the sudden chill he felt in his cheeks, he knew that he had as well.

'Stupid brat,' he murmured. 'Perdón (Excuse me), Jack. I must . . . uh . . . disappear for a moment.'

'Good luck,' Jack said, patting him on the arm as he slithered away. The former sighed, wondering where his friends were amongst the large, rowdy group.

As if in answer to his call, John suddenly appeared at his shoulder.

'Hey, Jack! Where were you this morning?' he asked his friend.

'There were some . . . circumstances,' he murmured.

'Eh?'

'Ouch. Where'd you get _that_, man?' Lee questioned, staring pointedly at his injury.

'A little green fairy from Neverland came and threw a handful of pixie rocks at me.'

'Ha! What a joker!' Terry exclaimed, slapping him on the back heartedly.

'No, really, Jack,' Fred said.

'You don't want to know,' Jack muttered.

'Come on! Tell us!' John urged.

'Yeah, come on,' Terry said.

'Well . . . A book . . . kind of . . . sort of . . . fell on top of my head.'

'Ouch,' Lee said again.

'Man, that's killer,' Fred added.

'Heh! That's what you get for being such an intellectual,' Terry said. 'I, on the other hand, have the brawn to make up for the brains!'

'Or whatever is left of them,' John muttered under his breath. Not a moment later, he was caught in Terry's headlock and given a noogie.

'How immature and uncouth,' Jack teased, playing upon Terry's "intellectual" idea.

'Just quit it, Jack,' Fred said. 'That kind of talk doesn't suit you.'

'So what are you saying exactly?'

'He's telling you the truth, man,' Lee said. 'You ain't cut out for that shit. You're like us, except . . . you just like to play around more, if you catch my drift.'

'Not anymore,' Jack replied firmly, all humour gone from his tone.

'Oh, really?'

'You know it's true! I would never—'

'Never what?'

'I would never betray Ralph!'

Lee appeared to be pondering this for a moment.

'Just out of curiosity, can you define the word "betray" for me?'

'What's to define?' Jack demanded. 'It's self-explanatory!'

'Is it?'

'Yes!'

'So I guess that doesn't include certain . . . thoughts?'

Jack immediately bit back his rebuke.

'I don't know what the fuck you're talking about,' he murmured.

'I think you do.'

'Hey, come on, guys, stop fighting,' Terry said, stepping between them.

'We're not fighting,' Jack stubbornly said. 'Just arguing. There's a difference, Ter.'

'But—'

_RING_!

That was the bell, signaling that everyone should return to class.

'Like, damn, that _was_ just another fucking drill,' Terry said with wonder.

'No shit, Sherlock,' John replied.

'Hey, you want another noogie?'

'Nah, I'm good.'

The pair laughed and casually followed the crowd with Fred on their heels. It didn't take a Sherlock Holmes type of detective to see that they were pacing themselves, taking as much time as possible to return to class.

'Hey, Jack, man,' Lee said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. 'You know that I didn't really mean it the way I said it, right?'

'Yeah.'

'But . . . I still have to talk to you . . . today, if possible.'

'What about?' Jack asked curiously.

'What do you think?' Lee asked back. 'You're not stupid, Jack. You know what it's about.'

The look in Jack's eyes immediately hardened.

'Wait, you just have to hear me out first,' the other teen insisted. 'Please, Jack.'

'Fine. Whatever. Do you just want to get this over with now? Like, it doesn't matter if I show up to first period five minutes late or fifty minutes late. I'm still going to get shit for it.'

Lee glanced back at the school as the last of the students entered the main door.

'Yeah. Let's get the fuck out of here then.'

'To where?'

'The forest.'

'Right.'

0000000000

'So, you and Merridew, eh?' Sam asked.

'I didn't know that you swung that way, Ralph,' Eric added.

Ralph shrugged. He had just told the twins about the relationship that he and Jack shared. Since he had hardly gotten to know them again, he strongly wondered what their reaction would be upon hearing the news. In the end, however, he realized that there was really only one way to find out, and so . . . yeah. They reacted pretty well to it; better than he could ever have ever hoped for, let alone expected.

'I didn't know that either,' Ralph admitted. 'I guess it's just . . . Jack.' He sighed and leaned his head back against the tree that he was seated against. He and the twins had wandered off from the others again, finding a quiet place in the park to eat their lunch and catch up on their lives. 'It wouldn't really matter to me if he's a male or female. In the end, it's just the person I care about.'

'But . . . surely you must have a preference,' Samneric insisted.

'Hard to say. I haven't really gotten past . . . er . . . foreplay with either sex, at least not to the extreme,' Ralph said, blushing crimson as he did so.

'But before him, you only liked females?' Samneric asked.

'Yeah.'

'We see.'

'So . . . what do you think?' Ralph questioned anxiously.

The twins looked at each other.

'Well . . .'

'I think that it's wonderful for you two to be together,' Eric finally said.

'But isn't the whole "long distance" thing difficult?' Sam asked.

'Definitely,' Ralph sighed. 'But it can't be helped. But Mum said that if my dad's job doesn't work out or whatever, we can go back. But I don't know when that will be. But maybe it will be soon. But I don't know.'

'So, you have a fetish for "butts", eh?' Samneric teased.

Ralph laughed nervously.

'Um . . . Guys, can I tell you something?'

'Yeah.'

'It's . . . kind of a secret, but I need advice . . . so . . .'

'Is it about Merridew?'

Ralph nodded.

'I really love him,' he began, flushing as he said that, 'and I want to go back to him, but . . . I don't know how he will react.'

'What do you mean?' the twins inquired.

'Well . . . I think that . . . he may be . . .' Ralph sighed again. 'Does Jack seem to be the cheating type?'

There was a very awkward silence.

'Well . . . that's difficult to say,' Sam said.

'Yeah,' Eric agreed. 'When we knew him, he seemed . . . that way.'

'But from what you tell us about him now, he really seems to care about you.'

'I guess,' Ralph replied hesitantly. 'He even lost a bet for me.'

'No way!' Sam exclaimed.

'We'll get back to this "bet" thing in a minute,' Eric intervened. 'First we have to discuss this problem . . . Has Merridew ever cheated on you?'

'No,' Ralph responded.

'So what makes you think he's doing it now?'

'Uh . . .' Ralph blushed again. 'It's kind of stupid. We were talking on the phone one day and he didn't . . . he didn't say that he loved me before he hung up.'

The twins glanced at each other.

'That's it?'

'Basically.'

Then they suddenly started laughing.

'Come on!' Ralph said indignantly.

'Don't worry, Ralph, I don't think that you have anything to worry about!' Sam said.

'Yeah. He was probably just busy or it slipped his mind or something,' Eric said.

'But . . . he fought so hard to . . . er . . . have me, so why . . .?' Ralph trailed off uncertainly.

Having noticed the distressed expression on their friend's face, the twins immediately stopped laughing.

'Well, I don't want to lie to you Ralph, but maybe . . . maybe this long distance thing isn't working out,' Sam said seriously.

'Or maybe this is one of those "phases", like what Jackson and Kyra went through. Remember, Sam?' Eric inquired.

'Eh?'

'Jackson and Kyra—their "phase".'

'Oh, yeah. Every couple goes through that at some point.'

'What happens?' Ralph asked.

'Well, the two people just sort of drift apart for a while,' Samneric said. 'That's when they get annoyed with every little thing the other one does and the drift just . . . happens. Sometimes they argue, sometimes they don't, and sometimes it reaches the extreme and the two people break up.'

'Do they ever get back together?'

'Sometimes,' the twins said again. 'They work out their differences and whatever. Or, like in Jackson and Kyra's case, they realized that they missed each other and wanted the other in their lives to suck each other's faces off. Kind of cute, really, in its own sickening way.'

'Oh,' Ralph said, quite worried now. What if he and Jack didn't end up like Jackson and Kyra? "Happily ever after" endings rarely occurred in real life, so the chances of them breaking up were much higher than the chances of them staying together.

"Is it really possible to stay together with someone over such a great distance and still be in love? Not just love them, but stay _in_ love with them? Jack and I have been apart for so long that I have almost forgotten why I was—why I _am_—in love with him. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . I'm not in love with him. What we had isn't really true love then, is it? Aren't two people who are truly in love suppose to stay together forever and ever, through thick and thin? So do I still love him?"

'It looks like Ralph is in his own little world again,' Eric whispered to Sam.

'Yeah. Do you think that we should snap him out of it? Or just snap him?' The latter made a flicking motion with his fingers in the air.

'Not yet.'

"Jack . . . I don't know what I should do . . ."


	7. Can I Do This?

**(07) "Can I Do This?"**

**"When I first saw you, I was afraid to talk to you. When I first talked to you, I was afraid to like you. When I first liked you, I was afraid to love you. Now that I love you, I'm afraid to lose you." —Anonymous**

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'It's about Ralph, isn't it?' were the first words out of Jack's mouth once he and Lee had found a spot to settle down in.

Lee glanced around at the towering trees surrounding them, his gaze wandering everywhere but Jack's face.

'This isn't like you, man,' he finally responded. 'I've known you for a long time. We've had some great, fun times together . . . Now, don't get me wrong, Ralph is a great guy and all, but . . .' He sighed and scratched his chin thoughtfully. '. . . but this isn't you.'

'What do you mean? Of course this is me, Lee! I've just changed—that's all.'

'But how long do you seriously think your relationship with Ralph is going to last?' Lee asked. 'How long will it be before he dumps you, or you dump him?'

'Our relationship isn't like that, Lee,' Jack said through gritted teeth.

'I know that it isn't.'

'And that's all that you have to know!' Jack snapped. 'That's all that there is _to_ know! We've been through all this before, "buddy". You said that the whole "dibbing" thing will be the last request!'

'"Dibbing"?'

'You know, like, "I have dibs on Jack!"'

Lee still looked rather confused.

'Giving, donating, pledging, whatever!' Jack added in exasperation. 'And that was for a good cause! What the hell do you have up your sleeve this time?'

'I am rather insulted by that, Merridew,' Lee replied coldly. 'You know my past better than anyone else. I should think you'd have a little bit more respect for my character.'

'Character? Lee, you're a great guy inside, but your philosophy on life is that "the ends justify the means". I don't see shit like that! I don't see things in the same way that you do!' Jack paused for a moment to take a breath. 'What I have with Ralph is special. I don't want to ruin it just because _you _think that the "means" are insignificant. Get a clue already, Lee!'

'Look, will you at least listen to what I have to say!'

'If it has the words "dump" and "Ralph" in the same sentence, then I don't want to hear it!'

'No! It doesn't!'

There was another pause, this one fairly longer than the last.

'Okay . . . I'm listening . . .'

Lee sighed.

'I don't like seeing you like this, Jack. You're still mourning over Ralph and—'

'I'm not mourning!' Jack interrupted.

'You are _so _mourning!' Lee snapped. 'And you're acting like a fucking pussy.'

'Can it, Lee.'

'Shit, Jack, would you just listen for a second! Just shut up, okay?'

Jack did just that . . . for the time being.

'I . . . just want to help you out a bit, man, in any way I can,' Lee said quietly.

'Gee, Lee, I didn't know you felt that way about me,' Jack replied, his playfulness returning. (That was always something that happened when he was talking to Lee. They've been close to each other for so long that they could be throwing insults at one moment and the next be kidding around like 12-year-old girls.)

Lee instantly recognized his friend's teasing tone and punched him in the shoulder.

'Listen, buddy, I got you something.' Then he pulled a white envelope out of his pocket. On it was Jack's name scrawled in Lee's untidy cursive writing.

'What's this?' Jack asked, taking the envelope and slitting it open with his finger.

'Something that the Brown (as in Brown Cow) man helped me buy with some of the leftover money that he had.' Lee smiled upon seeing Jack's face light up.

'It's a . . it's a . . . a train ticket,' Jack stuttered, his eyes welling up with tears.

'Yeah, and not just any train ticket . . . This one goes directly to Surrey, so that you can go and see Ralph.'

'Lee, I . . . I don't know what to say . . .'

'Well, a "thank you" would be nice . . . or . . . er . . . maybe not.'

'What do you mean?' Jack asked, his hard tone returning.

'There's a slight catch to it . . . Nothing big!' Lee added quickly.

'What? Do I have to pay it back or something?'

'No . . . uh . . . As you can see, this ticket isn't for another two weeks or so . . .'

'And?'

'And . . . you have to call Ralph and . . . tell him that you want to break up.'

All of Jack's happy thoughts suddenly vanished and furious ones took their place.

'WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN! YOU JUST SAID THAT YOU WOULDN'T TELL ME TO DUMP RALPH!'

'I fucking lied,' Lee replied calmly. 'And I didn't say, "Dump". I said, "Break up".'

'WHATEVER! THEY ALL MEAN THE SAME FUCKING THING!' Jack screamed. 'WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU BUY ME A TICKET TO VISIT RALPH AND THEN TELL ME THAT I HAVE TO BREAK UP WITH THE GUY!'

'It means that you have to hurt him, Jack,' Lee said, not looking his friend in the eye. 'I had a long talk with Mr. B about this, since he's been the fatherly figure for the better part of my life and all. We both agree that you have to hurt him. Do whatever it takes, Jack. Tell him that you found somebody else or something! You just have to hurt him!'

'I can't do that to him, you fucking bastard. I don't _want _to hurt him.'

'Then give me the ticket back.'

'NO!'

'Jack, this is for your own good.'

'Oh? Having Ralph hate me is for my own good?'

'Yes! This is so you know if he actually loves you!'

There was a very long pause.

'What?' Jack finally whispered.

'You heard me,' Lee responded. 'You're shitting your fucking heart out over this, so you may as well find out if it's worth it.'

'But why . . . why does it have to be like this?' Jack asked, slowly sinking down onto the mossy ground.

'Because of Erica.'

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Erica was one of Lee's ex-girlfriends. She was one who always flirted with the wild side, and _that_ was a major understatement. Erica grew up as an orphan in the gutters of London. Her only guardians were her three older brothers, all of whom had gotten jailed at least once in their lives for not-so-minor crimes. Needless to say, their dangerous lifestyles greatly influenced her.

Lee had met her through a mutual friend (whom he constantly bet with) at the Underground, which was a club downtown; the two had immediately hit it off. In Lee's opinion, Erica was attractive, dangerous, fun to be with, and mysterious. Her last quality was the one that appealed to Lee the most. You definitely did not meet a lot of girls like her, and Lee was shocked that she had actually taken an interest in him. She was _very _interested in him. Later that night, he even had dark love bites all over his neck to prove how much she did.

One night, the night of their two-month anniversary, she had tried to persuade him to steal a car. He refused to at first, knowing that there was a very high possibility that he'd be caught, especially since he'd had no prior experience in the whole thievery business (unless that counted cheating people out of their money).

'Please, Lee,' she had pleaded, pouting prettily.

'But I might get caught.'

'Aw, you're no fun. I've never known you to ignore—let alone refuse—a challenge before.'

'This isn't a challenge, babe. This is a crime!'

'Please? Pretty please? For me?'

'No,' Lee responded flatly.

Then she had pulled out the "if you love me then you'll do this" card.

'But I thought that you loved me.'

'I do.'

'Then why won't you help me have a good time?'

'I want you to have a good time, babe,' he said, kissing her adoringly on the cheek, 'but not like this.'

'Please, darling, baby, sweetie, gorgeous . . . You know I'll "thank" you for it later.'

'"Thank" me?'

She winked.

Lee glanced at the car. Then back at her. Then at the car once more.

'Well, it _is _a pretty sweet ride.'

'So you'll do it?'

. . . The answer to her question now lay in the permanent files of the judicial police.

Yet despite all that had happened, Lee continued to date her once he got out of Juvenile Hall. And it had been Mr. B from Brown Cow, a guy he had known for the better part of his life, whom had finally talked some sense into him. Lee had thought that Erica sincerely loved him, but he was wrong.

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'Lee? Hey, Lee, man, you aight?' Jack inquired.

Lee snapped back into his senses.

'Look, Jack, I know that this is a lot to ask,' he said, continuing on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't flown off to Memory Land. 'But, please . . . just do this for me, do this for yourself . . . do this for Ralph. He needs to know the answer, too. Besides, you're not actually "breaking up" with him. This is just a . . . temporary arrangement so that you can both figure out some things.'

'What "things"?'

'Well . . . how you really feel about each other.'

'But . . .' Jack trailed off. Lee made a valid point. After all, he had the life experiences to back up his arguments. 'How long does it have to be before I finally tell him the truth?'

'If he loves you, then just keep this a secret for the two weeks prior to your visit . . . if you still want to go,' Lee added as an afterthought. 'But if he doesn't, you're just going to have to let him go, man.'

'And what if he wants me back before the time is up? Does that mean that he loves me?'

'That's difficult to say, actually. He might still be in that "post-breakup" stage, so maybe it's best to wait for the two weeks to be over completely before you do anything.'

'But . . . Lee . . . Why do I have to hurt him?'

'Because if he really loved you, then he'd be able to forgive you for putting him through that pain,' Lee replied, placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

'But . . . I need him, Lee. I don't want to hurt Ralph because I need him more than he needs me. He's the one who pulled me out of that fucking—forgive the pun—whore life!' Jack jumped to his feet. 'He convinced me that I was so much more than a slut!' Jack paused for a moment and a faint smile appeared on his face. 'Besides, he'll never ask me to steal a car.'

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Jack couldn't believe that he was actually going to do this. It was late in the evening and Jack had unwilling come home to carry through with his fate or, rather, the fate "assigned" to him by his supposed friend. His hand shook when he reached for the receiver and dialed Ralph's number. The telephone rang once . . . twice . . .

"Please say that he isn't home," Jack thought desperately, listening to the phone ring once more. "Please say that he isn't home! I don't want to do this . . . Yes!" The answering machine came on and Mrs. Macpherson's familiar voice happily greeted him. Jack smiled. "Oh well. I'll just have to tell Lee that truth. I tried, but he wasn't home, so I couldn't do it." The teen was just about to put the receiver down when Ralph's mother picked it up at the other end.

'Hello? Hello?' she asked quickly.

Jack stood there in shock, the phone poised on his shoulder.

'Is anyone there?' Mrs. Macpherson inquired.

'Er . . . Sorry, wrong number,' Jack murmured automatically. He didn't have the nerve to do this! What the hell was he thinking!

'Jack? Jack, dear? Is that you?'

Every curse word that Jack knew flew through his mind.

'Yes, Mrs. Macpherson, I hope you'll forgive the little joke, ma'am,' he said, forcing a weak chuckle out of his nervous (forgive the pun) system. 'How are you?'

'I'm fine, thanks. And yourself?'

'Just . . .fine . . .' he said nervously.

'Well, I expect that you'd like to talk to Ralph . . . Oh, silly me, of _course_ you want to talk to Ralph!'

'Actually—' Jack began, but she cut him off.

'Here he is, dear,' she interrupted.

Not a moment later, Ralph answered.

'Hey, Jack! This is . . . another pleasant surprise. I was just about to call you, actually.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. There's something that I wanted to talk to you about.'

'Oh, that's . . . good . . . There's something that I wanted to talk to you about, too.' Jack fidgeted with the phone cord, grateful that Ralph couldn't see him in this state.

'Okay, I figured that since you called.'

'Right.'

'Well, you can go first.'

'No, that's all right. You go first.'

'But _you're _the one who called _me_. You should go first.'

'And now I'm giving you the privilege to go first.'

'Cut it out, Jack. What's up?'

'I . . . um . . . er . . . uh . . .' Jack had never found himself at such high degree of anxiety. He didn't like it. 'Is your mum still in the room?' he asked, trying to buy himself some time.

'No. She left already.'

'Oh . . . Well . . . I just wanted to say . . . that I . . . I . . .'

'Yes?'

Just then, he remembered Mrs. Macpherson's letter, where she warned—no, threatened—him not to break Ralph's heart . . . Could he really do this? In the long run, who was to say whose heart was more important? Jack or Ralph's?

But what if Lee was right? What if Ralph didn't really love him, but only _thought_ that he did? Wouldn't it save them both the pain of heartache later if they found out now? So, really, Jack was doing them both a favour . . . right?

'I love you, Ralph.'

'I love you, too.'

Tear began to streak down Jack's chiseled cheek. He had finally made up his mind.

'But do you really, Ralph?'

'Huh?'

'Do your really love me?'

'What is this shit, Jack? Of course I love you! You . . . you taught me the meaning of love.'

More tears fell from Jack's eyes and his knees weakened; he leaned against the wall for support.

'I . . . I really . . . I really don't want to do this, Ralph . . .' the teens honestly said. 'But . . . but I . . .'

'Jack?'

'I think that we should break up!' Jack blurted out.

There. He said it. It was done. There was no way to take it back.

'Is this a joke?' Ralph asked, his voice cracking.

'Ralph . . .'

A brief silence passed between them before Ralph asked, 'What's his name?'

'What?'

'What's his name?' Ralph repeated firmly.

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'JUST TELL ME WHAT HIS FUCKING NAME IS!' Ralph screamed into the phone.

'Even if there was, it wouldn't matter,' Jack replied. 'It's . . . us. I can't handle the distance, Ralph. I . . . I'm sorry. I'm only human. I can't wait forever, not even for someone as wonderful as you. . .'

'Did . . . did I ever have a place in your heart, Jack?'

'Yeah, you did,' Jack said. 'How could you even ask me that? You _did _have a place in my heart, babe.'

"You still do, Ralph!" his mind screamed.

'Don't . . . don't call me that, Jack. I'm not your 'babe', not anymore . . .'

Ouch. That statement went right to Jack's already-broken heart.

'But . . .' Ralph continued. '. . . but if I _do _still have a . . . a place in your heart,' he stuttered, 'I want you to release it. Just . . . release it. I don't want you to hold me in your heart at all, because that would close it off to others who are more deserving of your love . . . I just want you to know that . . . that my heart . . . my soul is open . . . is _exposed _to you and . . . and only you . . . but I don't want to have you burden yourself with the same . . . curse.' The teen inhaled a broken breath. 'You can love . . . whomsoever you'd like to, Jack . . . even if it's not . . . me . . . Goodbye.'

Then all that Jack heard was the dial tone.

Of all the breakups that Jack Merridew had endured (correction: caused), this had to be the most heart-wrenching experience . . . because this was the only one that mattered.

'I'm sorry, Ralph,' he said, sliding down to the floor. 'I am so sorry . . . Will you ever be able to forgive me?'


	8. Burning Hatred

**(08) Burning Hatred**

**"Anyone can become angry—that is easy. But to be angry with the right person, at the right time, for the right purpose, and in the right way—that is not easy." —Aristotle**

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Jack tried calling Ralph back, if only to make sure that he was okay . . . but the latter refused to pick up the phone. It was apparent that Ralph didn't want to talk to Jack, and it was equally apparent—if not more so—why.

'Shit,' Jack muttered, beating his head with his fists. 'I am a horrible person, Ralph, and I don't know why you love me . . . if you still do at all.' With glistening eyes, he looked out the tiny window at the end of the corridor. 'But I really did—really _do_—love you, you know . . .'

The teen shakily got to his feet and reunited the receiver, which he had dropped to floor prior to his self-inflicted abuse, with the telephone.

'Fuck me,' he growled under his breath, allowing the former to fall gently and with a slight clinking sound. 'What the fuck have I done?'

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Knowing that his mother would realize that something was wrong the moment that she saw him, Ralph made no effort to restrain his mounting emotions.

'FUCK YOU, JACK!' he screamed, breaking out of his usually calm demeanor. He then proceeded to stampede his way to his room, shoving and kicking away everything that came across his path, including the metal umbrella stand by the door. It was not until Ralph entered his room and flopped onto the bed that the pain—both physical and emotional—began to take its toll. 'ARGH! I HATE HIM! I FUCKING HATE THAT BASTARD! HOW . . . _WHY _THE FUCK WOULD HE DO THIS TO ME!'

'Ralph? Ralph, honey? Open up,' his mother ordered gently, knocking on his bedroom door.

'NO! GO AWAY! LEAVE ME THE BLOODY HELL ALONE!'

Ralph grabbed whatever was nearest to him, which was—thankfully—only a feather pillow, and threw it at the door with all his might.

'Ralph, I know what happened,' Mrs. Macpherson said, 'and I know that it's hard.'

'GO AWAY!' he repeated.

There was a short pause, then, 'Okay, I'll leave you alone for now, dear. But I want you to know that I'm here for you if you need me, all right?' She paused again before adding, 'You've been through break ups before, dear. Why should this one be any different?'

But she knew why. And he knew that she knew why.

'Because this was the only one that mattered,' Ralph murmured, echoing Jack's thoughts not a moment before.

"AND I HATE HIM FOR IT!" the teen's mind yelled. "I HATE HIM! I HATE HIM! I HATE HIM!"

Ralph shoved his desk drawer open and pulled out all the letters Jack had sent him over their time apart. With angry fire burning within his veins, he ripped up each and every letter and allowed the shreds to fall formlessly onto the ground.

'AHHHHH!' he screamed with frustration. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks and, try as he might, they refused to stop.

It was not until an hour or so later that Ralph finally calmed down. His cries were reduced to rare hiccups, for his now-raw throat prevented him from shouting any longer; only the tears from his red-rimmed eyes remained. With a broken heart, the teen picked up some of the shreds. Without realizing it, he rearranged them into something that resembled their original form. More tears leaked from his eyes as he read the now-familiar words of Jack's last letter . . .

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_My precious Ralph,_

_I can feel my love for you burning within my very being. It is ever-present in my body, my mind, my heart, and my soul. I feel as if it is slowly tearing me apart, for it burns so passionately through my veins, it enflames my very spirit! And yet . . . I would have it no other way._

_It is said that one can only fall in love with somebody once, but I realized long ago that that was not true. Every time I think of you, every time I hear your voice or read your wonderful letters, I fall in love with you all over again._

_I miss you, Ralph, and I will continue to do so until I can hold you in my arms again. When that happens, I fear that I may never let go. You are my one and only._

_I want you as I have never wanted anybody . . ._

_I need you as I have never needed anybody . . ._

_I love you as I have never loved anybody . . ._

_You are always in my heart,_

_Your Ultimate JACKpot!_

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And Ralph decided that what had happened was not the end. No. It was the beginning of something new! He could begin his life anew. He could forge a new relationship with someone else. No. He could just forget about intimate relationships entirely and focus solely on his redeveloping friendship with the twins. Or maybe he should just become a social hermit and concentrate more on his school studies, which would help him become a multimillionaire . . . and then Jack would be sorry. Yes! That was a great plan . . .

Who the bloody _hell _was he kidding? There was no way that Ralph would be able to let this go as easily as Jack obviously had. He had not been lying when he told the latter that his heart was open to him and him alone. But . . . if Jack didn't want him, wouldn't it be in his—Ralph's—best interest to at least try to move on? He couldn't let this affect him forever, but he _did_ need some time to get over it.

"As if," he thought despairingly, contradicting himself once more. "No amount of time will help me get over Jack Merridew."

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Needless to say, Jack had trouble sleeping that night. He also suspected that Ralph, many leagues away, was having trouble sleeping also.

But really, how could Jack allow Lee to talk him into this? How? Why?

After hours of sleepless brooding, it was a blessing for the troubled teen to force himself to get up and go to school.

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'Shit, Jack, you look terrible,' was John's greeting to him the next morning.

'Yeah, man, you aight?' Fred asked.

Jack just shrugged and locked knowing gazes with Lee. From the latter's eyes, he knew that Lee hadn't told the others, and he didn't really want to tell them of the new . . . circumstances either, so it was best to let their questions be for the time being.

_RING!_

'Well, we had better go to class,' John said, wisely not pursuing something his friend obviously had no intention of talking about.

They arrived to class a few moments later, Jack finally being able to give Ms. Levington the "heart attack" that he had been planning since . . . yesterday.

"Has it only been that long?" he wondered, taking his seat in front of his computer. "It feels like so much longer."

'Well, Mr. Merridew,' the teacher said, still clutching at her heart at the sight of him so early in the morning. 'I had not expected you to be on time today.'

'People change, ma'am,' he replied sullenly.

'Indeed.'

_RING!_

Ms. Levington lost no time in getting the class started.

'Please take your seats quickly, class!' she ordered.

No one moved any faster.

'I said, "TAKE YOUR SEATS!"'' she screamed.

Jack felt a sudden gust of wind as the other students dashed to their seats.

'Thank you,' the professor said, resuming her calm demeanor once more.

"Yeah, calm, like Ralph . . ." Jack thought wistfully.

'Today,' Ms. Levington said, making her way to the board, 'we will be discussing—'

Just then, a familiar box appeared on his screen. John wanted to talk to him.

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_Lil__ John says: r u k, Jak? _(Are you okay, Jack?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: ya, I jus dun wan talk bout it _(Yeah, I just don't want to talk about it.)

_Lil__ John says: k, bud, I undrstan. im jus concernd, is all _(Okay, buddy, I understand. I'm just concerned, is all.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: dun wry, im aight _(Don't worry. I'm all right.)

_Freddie has been added to the conversation._

_Freddie says: k, jak, we no u dun wan talk bout it, so we'l leave u alone _(Okay, Jack, we know that you don't want to talk about it, so we'll leave you alone.)

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Jack rolled his eyes and glared at John from across the room. He knew what they were doing (and they had probably planned this right under his nose as they all walked to class together) . . . They were trying to team up on him using reverse psychology in hopes that he would slip up and tell them what happened. As if! He retaliated to their antics by adding Lee.

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_Leeeee__ has been added to the conversation._

_Leeeee__ says: wo, how'd I end her? _(Whoa, how'd I end up here?)

_Freddie says: we'r jus telln jak that he duzn hafta tell us wuts wrong w/ him _(We're just telling Jack that he doesn't have to tell us what's wrong with him.)

_Leeeee__ says: o, dun I jus feel special den _(Oh, don't I just feel special then.)

_Lil__ John says: y? _(Why?)

_Leeeee__ says: cuz mi bud jak alredy told me sup _(Because my buddy Jack already told me what's up.)

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Furious, Jack kicked Lee under the table. He wouldn't _dare_ tell them! (Not with Jack "supervising" him like that, anyway.)

After flinching slightly, Lee gave Jack a pointed look, and then it dawned on the latter teen. He realized that Lee knew what they were trying to do as well.

Another box opened up on Jack's screen. This was a conversation from Lee alone.

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_Leeeee__ says: turn __ur__ mntr so fred dun c it _(Turn your monitor so that Fred doesn't see it.)

0000000000

Jack did so.

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_Leeeee__ says: jus trst me, a? _(Just trust me, eh?)

_Leeeee__ says: I aint gon tell em _('m not going to tell them.)

_Leeeee__ says: I got u in2 dis fukn hole, so y wud I dig it deepr 4u? _(I got you into this fucking hole, so why would I dig it deeper for you?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: fyne. I'll trst u..til u screw me ovr _(Fine. I'll trust you . . . until you screw me over.)

_Leeeee__ says: gud _(Good.)

_Leeeee__ says: so wut u wan me 2seh? _(So what do you want me to say?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: huh?_

_Leeeee__ says: tell em..wut u wan me2 tell em? _(Tell them . . . What do you want me to tell them?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: shyt, Lee, u put urself in dis fuckn sit'n, n now u dunno wut u wr g2 she? _(Shit, Lee, you put yourself in this fucking situation, and now you don't know what you were going to say?)

_Leeeee__ says: u hav new bf? _(You have a new boyfriend?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: den y wud I b sad? _(Then why would I be sad?)

_Leeeee__ says: __ur__ dog died _(Your dog died.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: I dun hav dog _(I don't have a dog.)

_Leeeee__ says: zakly _(Exactly.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: rolls eyes_

_Leeeee__ says: los bet _(Lost a bet.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: fyne. w/e. _(Fine. Whatever.)

_Jack-in-the-Box has left the conversation._

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Then Jack returned his attention to the other conversation.

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_Lil__ John says: guyz, r u stil dere? _(Guys, are you still there?)

_Leeeee__ says: ya _(Yeah.)

_Leeeee__ says: so, u wan no wutz fukn jak's brain roun? _(So, you want to know what's fucking Jack's brain around?)

_Freddie says: ya _(Yeah.)

_Lil__ John says: hel ya _(Hell yeah.)

_Leeeee__ says: he los bet _(He lost a bet.)

_Freddie says: __ur__ kidn, ryte?_ (You're kidding, right?)

_Lil__ John says: w/ u? _(With you?)

_Leeeee__ says: ya _(Yeah.)

_Freddie says: datz bull _(That's bull.)

_Lil__ John says: I concur_

_Leeeee__ says: __fyne__. w/e. _(Fine. Whatever.)

_Leeeee__ says: I cant make u believ it _(I can't make you believe it.)

_Leeeee__ has left the conversation._

_Freddie says: is dat tru, jak? _(Is that true, Jack?)

_Lil__ John says: ya, issit? _(Yeah, is it?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: I cant make u believ it _(I can't make you believe it.)

_Jack-in-the-Box has left the conversation._

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Just when Jack thought he had finished with pointless network chats for the day, another box appeared on his monitor.

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_CNS says: jak, u kk? _(Jack, you okay?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: ya, who dis? _(Yeah, who is this?)

_CNS says: Cristóbal_

_Jack-in-the-Box says: . . . oh_

_CNS says: but, ya, man, u dun luk 2gud _(But, yeah, man, you don't look too good.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: nm dat, how u no my sn? _(Nevermind that. How'd you know my screen name?)

_CNS says:_ _"Jack-in-the-Box"? even im not dat stupd _("Jack-in-the-Box"? Even I'm not that stupid.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: hehe, ryte _(Hehe, right.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: so wut __ur__ sn mean? _(So what does your screen name mean?)

_CNS says: cool 'n' sexy_

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Jack couldn't help it. He laughed out loud at that one, causing a disruption in the teacher's lecture. Everyone looked at him, smiling amusedly.

'Is everything all right, Mr. Merridew?' Ms. Levington asked with the sweetness of a ready-to-strike viper.

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Good. Then will you kindly pay attention and stop interrupting the class?'

'Yes.'

'Good,' she said again.

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_CNS says: heh, dat was classc _(Heh, that was classic.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: shup _(Shut up.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: so..ru gon tell me wut __ur__ sn mean or wut? _(So . . . are you going totell me what your screen name means or what?)

_CNS says: u told me 2shup..n u laffd my othr reply. U dun tink im kewl n sexxi? _(You told me to shut up . . . and you laughed at my other reply. You don't think that I'm cool and sexy?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: sexxi? hell ya (_Sexy? Hell yeah.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: kewl? Well,not lotta kewl pplz hide like pussies fr: teachrz. hehe _(Cool? Well, not a lot of people hide like pussies from teachers. Hehe.)

_CNS says: pt takn _(Point taken.)

_CNS says: well den, fyi, da sn is my initialz _(Well them, for your information, the screen name is my initials.)

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Jack was about to ask what his initials were when yet another small box appeared on his computer screen.

"Argh! Not another one!" he thought impatiently. "Can't everyone just leave me alone! Is that too much to ask!"

Still, curiosity got the better of him, as he did not know whom the person was.

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_MagLev__ says: Is anything the matter?_

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Well, truth be told, this struck Jack as odd. This stranger wrote in "regular" English, with proper spelling and grammar and everything!

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_Jack-in-the-Box says: jus spiffn. u ken leav me da fuk alone nau _(Just spiffing. You can leave me the fuck alone now.)

_MagLev__ says: Oh, I am glad to see that you are all right, Mr. Merridew. Now will you kindly cease your conversations with your peers and PAY ATTENTION!_

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Jack froze.

"FUCK!" he thought, nervously glancing up at his now-livid teacher.

Ms. Levington was sitting in front of the computer situated at her desk. It had a connection to the overhead projector for when she had to demonstrate a new program something to the class. For now, however, said cable was detached as she presumed her private conversation with Jack.

A dark smile appeared on her face when she tapped at her keyboard once more.

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_MagLev__ says: Jack-in-the-Box's "box" is closed._

_Maglev has left the conversation._


	9. Settled at Last?

**(09) Settled at Last?**

**"Don't settle for the one whom you can live with . . . Wait for the one whom you can't live without." —Anonymous**

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_It's the hardest things I'll ever have to do_

_To look you in the eye_

_And tell you I don't love you_

_It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to lie_

_To show no emotion _

_When you start to cry_

_I can't let you see what you mean to me_

_When my hands are tied_

_And my heart's not free_

_We're not meant to be_

_It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to do_

_To turn around and walk away_

_Pretending I don't love you _(1)

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Jack couldn't wait for drama class. It was a place where he'd be able to escape his troubles of this world and venture off into another, where he could be whomever he wanted . . .

Wrong again.

'Okay, ladies,' Mr. Raconte said excitedly, clapping his hands together to catch everyone's attention. Unlike Ms. Levington, Mr. Raconte was one whose very nature called for attention. He had no need of screaming and stamping around like a hoard of elephants to have his class listen to him.

'I wonder what we'll be doing today,' Lee muttered to Jack.

'It sounds like something good,' Jack replied with no small amount of conviction.

'Good. Now, as I'm sure you have all realized, the last week has been rather . . . bubbly for everyone.'

'Bubbly?' Lee asked aloud, and he was not the only one to have done so.

'What do you mean, sir?'

'What is "bubbly"?'

'Are you sure "bubbly" is the right word?'

'Now, now, class,' Mr. Raconte said. 'Settle down. When I say "bubbly", I merely mean . . . "happy", I suppose. But for today, I want you to focus on some of your other emotions.'

"Uh-oh," Jack thought. "I don't like where this is going."

'For today's performances, you will be working in pairs. I am going to assign each person from half the class an emotion. Then the other half will choose whom wishes to work with. Does that makes sense?'

'Yes, Mr. Raconte,' the class responded dully.

'Good. Just . . . don't argue over your partners,' he warned, trying to form a stern expression. For a drama teacher, however, he appeared to have difficulty doing so. 'If you argue, then _I _shall be the one to choose whom you work with.' The overly cheerful professor then retrieved a short list from his desk, as well as a pile of scripts, which he distributed to the students as he went along. 'Okay, Lee, you will do "sadness" . . . Mike, "jealousy" . . . Davis is "impatience" . . . Cristóbal, you shall be "passion . . .' And on and on he went.

Fortunately—or _un_fortunately, depending on how one looked at it—Jack was part of the "other half" of the class, so he had to choose whom to work with. He knew that they were going to be marked on this, and he really couldn't afford to receive any bad marks. Thus, almost the entire class had to be crossed off of his mental list, and that left . . . Jack groaned . . . Lee or Cristóbal.

Having heard which emotion each guy was assigned, Jack did not really have a desire to work with either of them.

"Lee . . . sadness . . . Cristóbal . . . passion . . ." Jack thought. " Lee . . . sadness . . . Cristóbal . . . passion . . . Decisions, decisions . . ."

Mr. Raconte began going down the line of students who had not been "assigned" an emotion.

"Lee or Cristóbal?" Jack asked himself. "Sadness or passion?" Both choices reminded him painfully of Ralph.

'And, Jack, have you decided who to work with?' the teacher questioned, having reached the aforementioned teen.

'Uh . . .' Jack hesitated. 'Yes, sir, I have.'

'Good. And whom is the lucky lady?'

Lady? Pfft! That was one of Mr. Raconte's pet names for his students and one that annoyed Jack to no end, especially since none of them could really be called "ladies" . . . Well, except for Lee. When he whined about losing bets, he really did sound quite feminine, like an overly desperate little girl.

'Jack . . . I'm waiting . . .'

'Oh, sorry, sir,' Jack apologized for his lapse of attention. 'I have chosen—'

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The day had hardly been kind to Ralph. After having been forced out of bed by his mother—

_'It isn't the end of the world, Ralph!' Mrs. Macpherson screamed at her poor son. 'Get out of bed and go to school! I will not allow your studies to be affected by this!'_

—the teen had dragged himself to school and through his classes.

Art had, expectedly, not been up to its usual standard. He had flatly refused to do anything, telling the teacher that he was not feeling "creative".

While Ms. Orville had not been pleased with his decision, she knew better than anyone—or so she claimed—that creativity is a key aspect in art.

Hence, Ralph had spent the period sitting alone in the corner, brooding. When asked if anything was wrong, he had replied with a sarcastic, "No". After a while, people stayed away from him out of their own accord.

Lunchtime passed by in a surprising blur. The teen had avoided his friends by disappearing into the boys' lavatory, flatly refusing to come out—had anyone been there to ask him—until his next class. Well, lunchtime passed and the time for his next class had arrived; unfortunately, Ralph's other teachers were not as gracious as Ms. Orville had been.

The usually well-behaved student found himself in the principal's office two times that day; needless to say, the latter had not been at all pleased. He had sent Ralph home after that, preventing the not-so-unlikely third visit.

"Return to school only when you are in the right state of mind!" he growled angrily, and Ralph was sent packing.

In a sort of mild stupor, the teen shoved his possessions into his locker (after all, he would never be able to concentrate long enough to do any of his homework that night) and made for home. He hardly made it to the front entrance before two familiar voices called out to him . . .

'Ralph! Wait!' Samneric cried out.

'Shouldn't you be in class?' Ralph asked halfheartedly.

'Yeah, but we skipped out on it. We wanted to find you.'

'Whatever. I don't care. Just leave me alone,' the teen muttered.

'No!' The twins ran to catch up with him and firmly planted their bodies in front of the troubled student, blocking his exit. 'Tell us what's wrong!'

'Leave me alone,' the latter repeated firmly.

'Does this have to do with Jack?' Sam asked, concern lacing his tone.

Ralph felt his hard façade beginning to crack.

When he didn't answer, Eric added, 'He's hurt you, hasn't he?'

'It's none of your business,' Ralph finally said.

'Of course it's our business!' they replied in unison. 'We're your friends!'

'I . . . I can't tell you,' Ralph stuttered. 'I can't . . . I can't talk about it at all . . .'

'Why not?'

"Because then I'll break!" he thought solemnly.

'I . . . I just _can't_, okay? I . . . I have to go.' He tried to push past them, but they simply wouldn't let him leave.

'Ralph . . . You can trust us,' Samneric said.

'He . . . we . . . he . . .' Ralph stammered, trying to fight back his tears.

'Yes?' the twins lightly urged.

'We . . . broke up,' he finally said. 'We're . . . we're not together anymore.'

And then the dam that had been holding the teen back finally broke. He crumpled into his friends arms, heedless of what onlookers—had there been any—may think.

'Oh, Ralph,' Sam said. 'I'm sorry.'

'Why?' Ralph laughed darkly. 'It's not your fault.'

'Don't worry,' Eric said reassuringly. 'Everything will be all right.'

'No! No, everything _won't _be all right!' the other teen cried out in hysterics.

'Come with us, Ralph. We have to get you out of here.'

The twins gently lead their distressed friend outside to sit on the stone steps in front of the school.

'Okay, we're not going to force you, but can you tell us what happened?' they asked, since it was already clear to them whom broke up with whom.

'Jack . . . he . . .'

'Take a deep breath,' Eric said.

'Yeah, just go at your own pace,' Sam added.

But Ralph overlooked their question and asked one of his own.

'What . . . what am I going to do, guys?' he said between tears.

'What do you mean?' Samneric questioned in return.

'I . . . need . . . him . . .'

'You don't _need_ him!' the interjected abruptly. 'You were able to survive without him before, so what's to stop you from surviving now?'

'I didn't know what . . . what _love _was before I met him.'

Suddenly, they seemed to realize just how deep of an extent Ralph's feelings for Jack ran.

'You love him?'

Ralph nodded.

'And I need him. Sam, Eric, I need Jack Merridew more than he'll ever need me. He's the only one who doesn't expect me to be anything other than what I am.'

There was a brief pause, then:

'For what it's worth, we don't expect anything of you,' Samneric whispered. 'We only want you to be you, Ralph. That's all anyone can ever ask for.'

And they enveloped him in their comforting embrace.

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"Isn't it odd how Ralph and Jack seem to be thinking the same things?" the mysterious stranger asked of himself. "Both of them believe that they are less than the other deserves . . . Perhaps it is time for my intervention once more."

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'Great job, Vincent!' Mr. Raconte praised. 'And you, too, Davis. That was excellent work! Okay, Lee and Ben, you're up!'

Yes, Jack had chosen to work with the Spanish heartthrob. He had decided that it was considerably less depressing to work with him than with Lee, whose assigned emotion was "sadness". Jack watched in mild fascination as his friend delivered a truly heart-breaking performance.

Lee triumphantly ended his scene with, 'I wish that I could be the one to tell you that it was all just a miscalculation—a mistake. But what everyone says is true, my son. You were the one who killed your mother.' He forced tears out of his eyes by—Jack saw—pinching his thigh. 'You were not in the right mind when you did it, but it was you who killed her. It was by your hands that my wife died.'

And Ben hung his head with "shame".

There was a polite smattering of applause following their performance. Usually there was one person (guess who!) who would lose control completely and cheer with all his might, but Jack, expectedly, was not his usual enthusiastic self. So that only left the teacher's never-ending compliments.

'Can I get a "woop-woop"? That was excellent, ladies!' Mr. Raconte exclaimed. 'It was played very well. However, Lee, if you are going to pinch your thigh to produce tears, try to do it a bit more obscurely.'

The student blushed, and Jack chuckled slightly. And here he thought that his friend was a _good_ actor!

'Next up—Jack and Cristóbal! Come on! Chop-chop!'

Jack followed his partner onto the stage, dragging his feet along. He really did not feel up to doing this, but he would try anything to try and escape this black hole that he had dug for himself . . . correction: that Lee had dug for him and then promptly pushed him into.

'Jack? Are you ready?' Cristóbal questioned.

'Yeah. Let's do this.'

The other teen smiled and promptly "disappeared" to the side of the stage. A moment passed in silence before Cristóbal cleared his throat and Jack suddenly remembered that _he _was supposed to say the first line.

A soft chuckle flowed through the class.

'Thomas?' Jack called out, looking around in a "lost" sort of fashion. 'Thomas? Where are you?'

'Here I am!' Cristóbal said, running up the other student. 'I'm sorry that I'm late. Were you waiting long?'

'Oh, it doesn't matter,' Jack said, wrapping his arms around the Spaniard and burying his face in the latter's hard, yet comforting, chest. 'I'm just glad that you're here now. I've missed you.'

'I've missed you as well.' Cristóbal cupped Jack's face with both his hands and gently coaxed the latter to glance up.

Jack followed the script and did so, looking into the deep eyes of his acting partner.

'I—' he started, but Cristóbal placed a soft finger to his lips.

"Ooh boy, this guy is hard and soft in all the right places," Jack thought.

"No! BAD THOUGHTS! Stop thinking of Cristóbal in that way!" his more reasonable mind scolded.

'Let no more words pass between us,' Cristóbal said, bringing him back to his present situation. ''We have been apart for too long.' His breath played across Jack's quivering lips as he spoke. The Spaniard's lips drew closer and Jack's—of their own accord—began to follow suit. The latter felt one of Cristóbal's hands leave his face to circle around his lower back and pull Jack closer towards him; their hips were now pressed together as their lips became ever-closer . . .

'Excellently done!' Mr. Raconte proclaimed, clapping loudly. 'That was a wonderful performance!'

Jack snapped back into his senses. He had forgotten that he was still in class! What the hell!

Cristóbal slowly (almost hesitantly) released him, and he suddenly noticed a much bigger problem. Yes, _much _bigger.

'Um . . . Sir, may I be excused?' Jack asked, hiding his waist behind one of the nearby props.

'Not yet, Jack! You must take in the glory that is yours to take! Initially, you were not up to your usual potential, but you made up for it in the end! Bravo!'

'Um . . . Please, sir? I . . . er . . . have to use the loo.' Well, it wasn't _really_ a lie.

'Very well,' the drama professor huffed, as if he was personally offended by Jack's need to leave.

After a muttered thanks, Jack was finally allowed to escape from the classroom (with his hands concealing a certain . . . area) and take care of his . . . needs.

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'What the fuck is wrong with me!' Jack asked—no, _demanded_—of himself once the dire . . . circumstances had been disregarded. The teen ran the cold water in the sink before proceeding to splash some of the cool liquid onto his flushed face.

'You are—shall we say—desiring me,' a voice answered.

Jack's body stiffened nervously and he raised his sopping face to glare into the mirror at the new arrival.

'What do you want?' he inquired.

'After your abrupt departure from class, Raconte asked someone to go and check on you.' Cristóbal grinned. 'I volunteered.'

'I see,' the other replied, slowly turning the faucet off. 'Why?'

'You know why.'

'Oh, and here I thought you'd answer with, "Why not?" I guess I don't really know you that well, after all.'

Cristóbal laughed, genuine and pleasant; Jack could not help but love the sound of it. Eventually his laughter died down, leaving the latter rather disappointed.

'Jack,' Cristóbal said, 'I know that I have said I'm happy just being your friend, but I want . . . more.'

'Cristóbal—' Jack began, but said teen held up his hand, cutting Jack short.

'No, listen first. I have been watching you for a while now, Jack, and I am . . . enraptured by what I see.'

'What?'

'You heard me. I am fascinated by everything you do, from the way your eyes harden in contemplation to the way you kick your friends when you are irritated,' he added with a grin. 'The point is . . . I think that I—'

Then it was Jack's turn to interrupt.

'Don't say it!' he snapped. 'Don't say it, Cristóbal! I don't think that I could deal with that right now.'

'Okay, I won't,' the other student replied, reaching behind him to lock the washroom door. 'How about I show you instead?'

Anxiety increasing, Jack backed away into the far wall, intent on placing as much distance as he could between him and his foreboding companion.

'I am not going to force you to do anything that you don't want to do, Jack,' Cristóbal said, slowly approaching him.

Jack's response was running into a stall and slamming the door shut.

'How do I know that you're not lying?' Jack asked. 'How do I know that this won't end up as just another one of your "just friends" things?'

'Because I'll allow you to stop me.'

Now Jack was scared. His fear did not originate from the fact that he had only about a half-inch of slated wood between him and a potential molester. No. His fear hailed from the fact that he actually wanted it. Cristóbal had confirmed it upon his otherwise silent entrance.

Jack desired him, Jack desired Cristóbal!

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Cristóbal wanted only the best for Jack. True, he may have been lying when he said that he would be satisfied with just being Jack's friend, not his lover. However, he had lied because he did not want to pressure Jack into an affair when he already had a thriving—although distant—relationship with someone called Ralph. His intentions were actually good and pure.

The Spaniard fancied Jack for all the reasons that the latter seemed to overlook and/or have trouble seeing in himself, amongst which were his gentle nature, his strong-willed character, and his devotion to those he cared about.

"So why can Jack not see that?" Cristóbal wondered, staring at the broad plank of wood that still separated him and the other teen. (If he squinted, he could almost make out Jack's scuffed up shoes by looking through the slats.) "Why can he not see that I am not pursuing him for sex or pride or anything of such vile nature? Why can he not see that I merely want to _show_ him how much I care about him? I may not be able to given him everything that he desires, but I would willingly bend my spine twice over trying."

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_If I could __Then I would__Give you the stars from heaven above__In these arms__I'll take you around the world__With the love I have for you _(2) 

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Cristóbal's spirits promptly soared when he saw the stall door open and the object of his affections step out.

With a slight smile, Jack whispered, 'Okay.'

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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: "The Hardest Thing (I'll Ever Have to Do)", 98 Degrees

(2) Mini-Disclaimer: "If I Could", Joee


	10. Feelings

_Author's Note: Warning! Slight lemon in this chapter!_

**

* * *

****(10) Feelings . . .**

**"I don't believe that life is supposed to make you feel good or make you feel miserable either. Life is just supposed to make you feel." —Anonymous**

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Cristóbal stepped forwards and gently cupped Jack's face in his hands—as he did in class—and _kissed_ him! This was not just a close kiss, not just an "almost" kiss . . . This was the _real thing_!

Jack did nothing to respond to the kiss, although he did not push the Spaniard away either. He merely stood there, pressing his mouth against the other's lips. It wasn't really anything special, until . . .

Cristóbal began to vary the pressure of his lips against Jack's—first hard, and then softer, gentler. He coaxed the latter's mouth open and slipped his tongue inside, exploring the forbidden cave. He explored the cavern carefully, not sloppily, as some of Jack's former suitors had the tendency to do. It was as if he was caressing Jack with his tongue, putting all of his emotions and his feelings into the kiss.

Jack sighed. How long had it been since he had kissed so like this? A few months, at least. Since . . . since Ralph left. However, Jack had no time to feel sorry for himself, for just then, one of Cristóbal's hands left his face. But unlike before, it did not come to rest on his waist. No.

'You can stop me whenever you want to,' Cristóbal muttered against his lips before plunging his warm hand into Jack's trousers.

Jack immediately moaned and thrust into the warm hand, pressing closer to its heat.

Noting the apparent invitation, Cristóbal slipped his hand into Jack's boxers and began stroking the generous organ.

'Ohh!' Jack groaned, breaking the kiss and allowing his head to fall back against the tiled walls.

'Do you like that?'

'Yes!'

'Good.' Cristóbal's pulled his hand out and proceeded to unbutton Jack's school pants and slip them off of his hips and onto the floor; his boxers soon followed.

'What are you—? Ohh!' Jack's sentence ended in a deep moan as Cristóbal kneeled on the ground and took him greedily into his mouth. Then he sucked fiercely on the generous organ, producing a writhing teen above him. Oh, he was _so _close . . . But just as Jack neared his climax, Cristóbal abruptly released him and easily redressed him before getting to his feet. Then the Spaniard's strong hands took a hold of Jack's shoulders and pulled him into a hard, passionate kiss.

'We shall finish this later, Jack,' Cristóbal murmured silkily; then he unlocked the door and left.

Jack groaned with both unsated desire and pure shame from what had occurred. It wasn't like he could _not _give a damn after what had happened. The importance of the situation was being shoved rudely into his face!

'Oh no,' he murmured, crumpling to the floor . . .

And that was how Lee found him but minutes later.

'Jesus Christ, Jack, what the hell happened to you?' Lee demanded, taking in his friend's flushed features and raging hard on.

Jack's reply was very curt, yet it explained everything.

'Cristóbal.'

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Feeling slightly better after his conversation with the twins—although still slightly dazed—Ralph made his way home, wondering what his mother would say when he arrived early from school. About halfway there, however, he decided that he would not be able to deal with her inquisition at the present moment and opted to wile away time somewhere else, _anywhere_ else. He just needed somewhere to chillax until school ended and he could return home at his usual time.

So, Ralph found himself combing town for a small restaurant or a café of some sort, a place that was out of the way and where he would not run into anyone whom he didn't wish to speak with. He eyes brightened when he saw the words "Joe's Diner" lit with fluorescent green lights. Feeling slightly anxious, he pushed the door open.

_Ting-a-ling._

A bell above the door jingled softly to announce his arrival.

"Wow, this is just like the movies or something," he thought in spite of himself, looking around curiously. "Except . . ."

After having a quick glance about, Ralph noticed something—it was full of gay couples. Here and there, along the windows and at the counter, talking and paying, flirting and laughing, guys and gals, old and young, the gay couples went about their business.

Ralph swallowed, his anxiety growing.

"Of all the places to go, I just had to choose this one," he thought bitterly, "where everything is a reminder of Jack."

'Hey, kid, you want to eat something or what?' the forty-something-year-old woman standing behind the counter asked (rather rudely, in Ralph's opinion, so why the _hell _was she involved in customer service?). She looked him up and down with indifferent eyes, snapping the pink gum in her mouth.

'Yeah, whatever,' he replied indifferently, sighing. 'At least the chances are slim that someone will see me here.'

Having heard what he said, her expression became curious, but she did not mention anything.

'So . . . will there be two of you then?' she questioned automatically. After all, only couples really came to this place.

'No. Just one,' he said, his dark mood deepening.

'Right. Here's your menu then,' she said, holding out a menu for him.

'No thanks. I'll just have a coffee—black.'

'Right,' she said again.

Ralph sullenly seated himself on one of the high barstools lining the counter, trying not to pay attention to the happy couples around him.

'Here's your coffee, kid.' The woman carefully handed him a steaming cup of said brown liquid.

The teen reached into his back pocket for his wallet, but she held up a firm hand.

'It's on me today, okay?'

'Oh, thanks,' he said, taken aback. 'But . . . why?'

'I've worked here for years, kid, and I must admit that it gets pretty depressing for me at times. You see, I'm straight, so hitting on the guys here is bloody useless.'

Ralph hoped that she would get to her point soon, because it was dull listening to her tell him about what she thought of her workplace.

Apparently, the woman appeared to have read his mind because she said, 'Anyway, my depression ain't nothing compared to yours. In all the time I've worked at this dump, I ain't never seen anyone walk in looking as desolate as you do. Paying for your coffee is the least that I can do.' She blew a bubble until it popped and slipped the sticky substance back into her mouth. 'Not that it's any of my business or anything, but did you love 'em?'

'Who?'

'Whoever it was that broke your heart.'

To be spared from answering, Ralph picked up his cup and—after raising it to her in a silent toast of gratitude—took a sip of his coffee.

That seemed to be a good enough answer for her, for she left him alone to go and make another pot of coffee.

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Well, the good news was that Mrs. Macpherson did not suspect that anything had gone wrong at school, for the teen had arrived home at his usual time. (Indeed, she was even doing her usual routine of washing the dishes, which she always happened to be doing when he returned.) However, the bad news—

'I'm home,' Ralph said quietly, entering the clean kitchen to greet her.

'It's good to see you home, Ralph, dear,' she replied, turning slightly from her task to glance back at him.

—was that Ralph's mother was still worried about him. True, it had only been a day, but she couldn't help but notice that her son looked a bit peakier than was normal. Call it motherly instinct. When she said, "It's good to see you home", what she really meant was, "I'm glad that you didn't have the mind to commit suicide".

'Mm,' was his reply to her two-toned greeting. He immediately went to the refrigerator to retrieve a soda. Then he popped the top off and

began to take long gulps, allowing the burning liquid to sear down his throat.

Mrs. Macpherson pursed her lips slightly from his response, but immediately excusing it because of his obvious bad mood.

'Did you have a fine time at school today?'

'Yeah.'

'Anything . . . interesting happen?' she asked carefully.

'Not really,' he said, tossing his now-empty can into the trash bin.

'Oh . . .' She finished washing the last dish and set it on the plastic rack to dry.

Almost immediately, Ralph came up beside her and began drying the dishes with a cloth.

Smiling gratefully, Mrs. Macpherson said, 'Thank you, Ralph, and . . .' She placed a gentle hand on his arm, causing his eyes to hesitantly meet hers. '. . . please, come to me if you need someone to talk to, or just someone who will listen. I will always be there for you.' She kissed him softly on the cheek and made to leave, intent on running a load of laundry, but his voice stopped her.

'Wait.'

Ralph's mother turned around expectantly.

'Yes?'

Ralph hung his head with shame.

'Last night, I know that I wasn't exactly the . . . the nicest person or a son . . . that you could be proud of. And I just wanted to say . . . I'm sorry.'

She smiled gracefully.

'Apology accepted.'

Then the cloth fell out of Ralph's loose grip and the dishes lay forgotten as mother and son tightly embraced.

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Another day of school. Another boring day of school. Another fucking boring day of school.

Well, at least one thing made it more interesting (that is to say, different from usual) for Jack Merridew—he had to firmly stay away from a certain Spaniard . . . or was it stay close to? Jack really hadn't decided yet, for both circumstances held appeal. On the one hand, staying away from Cristóbal would be easier because then Jack would be able to keep his . . . desires at bay.

"Because that's all they are," he reasoned with himself. "Desires, only desires . . . right?"

On the other hand, if Jack was near to Cristóbal at the . . . er, _ideal _moment, then they may be able to finish what they had started.

"Translation: what _he _refused to finish," the teen thought bitterly, sighing.

Of course, he had been unable to avoid Cristóbal during homeroom—computer class. He had spent the period pretending to pay attention to Ms. Levington (since he remembered to do so this time) and ignoring messages from the Spaniard . . . and John, Fred, and Lee as well, for that matter. It wasn't until Lee kicked him brutally (and repeatedly, I may add) under the table that he finally opened up the window.

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_Leeeee__ says: itz bout tyme, u fukn pussi! _(It's about time, you fucking pussy!)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: wtf u want? _(What the fuck do you want?)

_Leeeee__ says: i unno, wut u wan? _(I don't know, what do you want?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: nau hoo's bein a pussi? jus tell me, jakass _(Now who's being a pussy? Just tell me, jackass.)

_Leeeee__ says: .. (. . .)_

_Jack-in-the-Box says: Lee?_

_Leeeee__ says: u shud treet me w/ mo respect, bro _(You should treat me with more respect, bro.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: y? _(Why?)

_Leeeee__ says: i got u a job _(I got you a job.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: ur shittn me, ryte? _(You're shitting me, right?)

_Leeeee__ says: rong _(Wrong.)

_Leeeee__ says: tho I cudn care reely less bout da ralf ting.. _(Although I couldn't really care less about the Ralph thing . . .)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: g, thx, bud_ (Gee, thanks, buddy.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: rolls eyes_

_Leeeee__ says: hehe, jks only, man _(Hehe, jokes only, man.)

_Leeeee__ says: ..ne weh, mr. B felt kinda bad _(. . . Anyway, Mr. B felt kind of bad)

_Leeeee__ says: (hoo no's y)_ ((Who knows why?))

_Leeeee__ says: n he decided 2giv u a p-t job brown cow _(and he decided to give you a part-time job at Brown Cow.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: .. (. . .)_

_Jack-in-the-Box says: thx, Lee _(Thanks, Lee.)

_Leeeee__ says: np _(No problem.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: u kno wut? _(You know what?)

_Leeeee__ says: wut? _(What?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: on sum days, ur NOT such a big pussi..u stil r, but not as much as u r on most days _(On some days, you're NOT such a big pussy. You still are, but not as much as you are on most days.)

_Leeeee__ says: a, go scrw urself _(Ah, go screw yourself.) (1)

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Once first period had ended, Jack had been able to evade Cristóbal once more . . . until drama class, that is, in which Jack was afraid to leave the classroom for fear of once again being . . . molested? But, no, it wasn't a _bad_ thing, what they did in the lavatory. The only "bad" part about it was that it hadn't been completed.

"Stupid Cristóbal," Jack thought cynically. "Just once more stroke and I would have gone over the edge. Of all the rotten luck!"

Unfortunately, luck was not on Jack Merridew's side on that day either.

'Jack, Cristóbal,' Mr. Raconte summoned them, after having received a brief telephone call. 'Would you two mind collecting some of our new wooden sets from the art class?'

'Wooden sets, sir?' Jack inquired.

'Yes, Jack. They are to be the backdrops of the play that we will be presenting to the school, remember?' he said impatiently. 'Anyway, the head art teacher called me and asked for two strong boys to go and retrieve them.'

'So why us?' Jack questioned, glancing pointedly at his slender—although still muscular—arms.

'Because I asked you to, silly,' the professor replied with a slight chuckle. 'And . . . er, because you two are the only ones who are able to hear me over this racket.'

That was pretty much true. The students were sitting in a large circle on the classroom's plush carpet (which was where the audience sat while a play was being performed on the erected stage). Much to the former's irritation, Jack and Cristóbal were seated next to each other, their backs leaning casually against the teacher's desk.

Their assignment for today was to practice monologues for a brief assessment the next day. And not just any monologue. No. Mr. Raconte had been quite specific. According to him, their monologues had to show anger, jealousy, frustration, or any other "dark" emotion. The teens translated this into their own vocabulary in this manner: loud. So, an entire class _loudly _practicing their monologues created quite a ruckus.

'Be sure to count them before you bring them back,' Mr. Raconte yelled to them over the noise. 'There should be two of each kind.'

'And how many kinds, sir?' Cristóbal asked.

'I am not entirely sure, so it would be best if I simply didn't tell you what I thought.'

'That many then?'

With a sly smile, Mr. Raconte said, 'Maybe. Yes, I think so.'

Sighing, the two teens dragged their feet out the door of the classroom, where a not-so-light (literally!) fate awaited them.

'So what kind of sets do you think they are?' Cristóbal asked his companion casually.

'I don't know. It doesn't matter,' Jack said, shrugging.

A short pause passed between them.

'Jack, are you angry with me?'

Jack stopped his progress midway through the corridor to glare at the Spaniard.

'No, where would you get that idea?' he responded sardonically. Then, without taking the time to explain himself, he simply turned away with his nose in the air and power-walked (2) to the Art Department. He arrived there not two minutes later, which was quite a feat, since the drama room was located on the other side of the not-so-small school. But it did not come without its price. Jack was now slightly out of breath and his calves hurt.

'Jack? Are you all right?' Cristóbal said, catching up to him without breaking a sweat.

"Damn, he really _could _last for a while," Jack thought. "AHH! Bad thoughts! Get out of my head!"

Ignoring both Cristóbal and his thoughts, the teen knocked on the door.

'Excuse me? Who are you here to see?' the pleasant-looking lady in the head art teacher's smock (i.e.: the head art teacher) asked them curiously.

'We're from Mr. Raconte's drama class,' he explained. 'I understand that there are some sets here that we need to pick up.'

'Oh, yes, Mr. Raconte's students.' She opened one of the classroom doors and indicated a monstrous heap of anvils . . . uh, sorry . . . _sets_ (with the apparent weight of anvils, upon Jack's later discovery) positioned neatly along the side wall. 'You may need to take a few trips, dears. I do not want you hurting your backs with those darn things.' She smiled.

The two teens smiled back, although theirs were slightly more forced. The same thought had run through both their heads when they set their eyes upon the new backdrops: "Holy shit".

'Thank you, ma'am,' Jack said, holding up on of the sets to test its mass.

"Well, it isn't _too_ bad," he thought, slightly reassured. "But I have a feeling that my arms will fall off after we finish with all these. Oh well. I'm a man! I can take it . . . hopefully."

'Just take care not to break them,' she warned. 'Mr. Mann, the shop teacher, will have a fit if he has to build anotherone. I know that I myself will have a fit if I have to help paint another one of _those _bloody things!'

'Yes, ma'am.'

Then they started their work.

It took a while for Jack and Cristóbal to heave the first set of . . . well, _sets _from the art classroom to their drama classroom. When they arrived at their classroom, Mr. Raconte had a look of glee upon his face.

'Oh, good! They're here!' he exclaimed.

'Yes, sir,' Jack and Cristóbal replied in unison.

'And have you checked to make sure that there are two of each?'

'Sorry, sir,' Cristóbal said. 'We forgot to, but we will when we get back.'

'Make sure you do.'

And they were off again.

Upon their return to the art classroom, they ran into one of the young A-V guys (3). The latter was rolling a large cart in front of him, laden with computers and speakers and other . . . stuff.

'Hey, where'd you get that?' Jack asked, staring down at the freshman.

'W . . . what?' the poor kid stuttered shocked to see that an older student was speaking to him.

'That cart. Where did you get it?'

'The A-V . . . office . . . There are a whole bunch of them.'

'Can you get us one?'

The youngster shrugged.

'I guess so.'

'Great. Thanks a lot, kid,' Jack said with a smile.

'Yeah, thanks.' Cristóbal said in turn, clapping him on the back and causing the youngster to stagger slightly.

'Uh . . . I'll go get it then,' the A-V guy said. 'I was just on my way there, anyway.' And he was gone, dragging his loaded cart along behind him.

'Okay, what's up, Jack?' Cristóbal inquired, staring at his companion. 'Why the hell are you mad at me?'

'Why do you think?'

The Spaniard thought about it for a moment.

'Actually, I cannot think of a reason why you would be angry with me. But if I _have_ done something to wrong you . . .' He trailed off (for the time being) and placed a gentle hand on Jack's lower back, causing the other to shiver slightly. '. . . then I am sorry.'

'What are you sorry for?' Jack asked softly, pulling away. 'If you didn't do anything wrong, then you have nothing to be sorry for.'

'I—'

Just then, the same A-V guy returned with an empty cart in tow.

'Here you go,' he said, wheeling it to a stop in front of them. He looked rather proud for having completed his task, for seniors! (Oh my goodness!) 'Did you need any help at all?'

'Nah, we're good,' Jack said, glaring at Cristóbal from the corner of his eye. 'Thanks again, kid. We'll return it to the A-V office when we're through.'

'Okay!' The youngster looked at them adoringly for a few moments before finally turning away and leaving.

'Let's get this over with,' Jack said, sighing. He wheeled the cart into the room and began to pile a few of the sets onto it.

'Please, Jack,' Cristóbal was practically begging now. 'How have a wronged you?'

Jack ignored his question, although he took the time to bitterly mutter, 'We have work to do.'

'Listen to you—you sound like a child. Like, "If you don't know, then I won't tell you".'

"Ignore him," the other teen firmly told himself, carrying on with his task. "Just ignore him and maybe he'll just go away."

Wrong.

Cristóbal approached him and wrapped his arms around Jack from behind. Even when the latter tried to move away, the Spaniard did not release his hold. If anything, he tightened it further.

'Let go,' Jack commanded. 'You're hurting me.' It was a lie, but whatever. Cristóbal didn't have to know that.

'Not until you tell me,' was the stubborn reply.

'Fine!' Jack sighed in defeat. 'It's because of the blowjob!' After he said that, his eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't believe that he actually said that! Sure, he was mad. But . . . why didn't he lie and say something like, "It's because you're so damn sexy and you're taking some of my fans away" or "It's because you're getting higher marks than me in drama". Of course, those lies were not very good, but anything was better than talking about the _blowjob_!

'I see,' Cristóbal said slowly. 'What? You no like?'

'What would it matter?' Jack growled, shoving the other teen away with his elbow. 'Just drop it.'

'No.'

'I said, "DROP IT!"'

'No, I will _not _drop it, not until I know what you meant by that.'

The Spaniard's teasing tone did not slip past Jack, and the latter angrily narrowed his eyes.

'Fucker,' Jack said, although with much less conviction than he had originally intended.

'Oh, I sure hope so,' Cristóbal responded. Then the teen grabbed a hold of the cart and skillfully wheeled it closer to Jack, effectively pinning the latter between it and one of the large wooden sets nearby.

'What the—?'

But before Jack had opportunity to complete his sentence, Cristóbal leaned forwards and planted a bruising kiss on his mouth.

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(1) Okay, I know that Jack and Lee call each other "pussies" a lot. Sorry about that. I watched the "Stand By Me" movie recently and that was their BIG insult. It kind of got stuck in my head. Oh well.

(2) Hehe, Jack power-walked. I know it's supposed to be healthy and all, but actually seeing people power-walk is kind of funny sometimes.

(3) "A-V" means "Audio-Visual". These people are usually in charge of technological stuff for school assemblies or whatever. Well, the ones in my school are, anyway.


	11. Advice?

**(11) Advice?**

**"Advice is what you ask for when you already know the answer but wish that you didn't." ****— Anonymous**

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_How could an angel break my heart_

_Why didn't he catch my falling star_

_I wish I didn't wish so hard_

_Maybe I wished our love apart_

_How could an angel break my heart (1)_

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Ralph lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling, arguing within himself. He was trying to decide whether or not to take his mother up on that "talking" offer. Talking was always good, right?

Except when it was not.

Hmm . . .

After a while, the teen took out a scrap piece of paper and pencil. Then he began to list out the pros and cons of each decision.

'Con,' he said to himself, hastily scrawling the word down. 'She's my _mum_! Enough said. Pro: Who cares? Con: It would be awkward trying to talk to her about my relationship problems . . . er, problem' he corrected desolately. 'Pro: She would be easier to talk to than my father would be. Con: Despite her offer, she's probably constantly kept busy with housework or something and shouldn't be bothered with my troubles. Pro: I'll never really know until I find out, and I'm sure that she'd put me—her only son—before an old chore any day.'

Ralph stopped for a moment to read over his list. Each con he listed was countered by a pro, so that pretty much put him back where he started from. Thinking hard, he listed more pros and cons.

'Con: I don't even know if she approves of my relationship—it might all just be a farce. Pro: Even if she doesn't, she would at least _try_ to accept it, right? Con: Why would she want me to _fix_ my problems with Jack when he lives so far away? It's not as if he will have an immediate affect on my life. Actually, he probably won't even have an affect at all if I can just get my closure. Pro: She's always encouraging me to face my problems rather than run away from them, so maybe she _would_ try to help.'

A small smile appeared on Ralph's face now as he realized:

'Pro: She's always been there for me, through thick and thin, so why not now? Pro: She's had a lot more experiences with relationships (in her younger years) than I have. Pro: Maybe she'll have some sound advice that I can use. Pro: Even if she can't tell me anything, at least she promised to _listen_. Pro: Once she realizes how much my relationship with Jack really means to me, she'll stop trying to set me up with random girls who she just met through a friend of a friend of a friend. Pro: _Not _knowing what she'd say is driving me absolutely _crazy_!'

So, the pros outweighed the cons. So, the teen realized that the unknowing factor was the main part of the debate that prodded him. So, the list itself was pretty much useless to him since it was the "unknowing" that had decided the result. So, he decided to go downstairs and talk to Mrs. Macpherson about his troubles. So . . . he should probably use the loo before he did so.

This looked like it was going to be a long discussion on his part.

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Ralph found his mother in the living room, where she was curled up on the big, comfy couch.

'Hey, mum,' he greeted her.

'Oh, hello, dear,' she said, barely looking up from the thick book that she was reading.

'Erm . . . Can I talk to you for a bit?'

Mrs. Macpherson glanced up at her son. When she realized what their conversation would be about, she used her bookmark to indicate the page that she was on and gently set the book down on the coffee table in front of her, along with her wire reading glasses.

'All right. Come here,' she said, patting the seat beside her.

Ralph obeyed and sat down beside his mother.

'So,' she said.

'So,' he said.

She smiled.

'Um . . . This is going to be difficult to talk about,' Ralph said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

'That's all right,' Mrs. Macpherson replied patiently. 'We have the time, Ralph, dear, so you can take all the time that you need.'

'Uh . . . I kind of need advice.'

'About Jack?'

'Yeah. I don't know what I should do.'

Ralph's mother sighed.

'I am sorry to say that I cannot tell you what to do, son,' she said.

'I thought as much,' he responded glumly. He made to stand up, but she stopped him by placing a comforting hand on his knee.

'Every relationship is different, Ralph, which is why I cannot help you. But I _do _know this: your relationship with Jack is special.'

'Er . . . Thanks, mum, but that doesn't really help me much.'

'Doesn't it? You asked for my advice, Ralph, and that's all I can really tell you. Your relationship with Jack is special and different from anyone else's. You can't ask me for advice, or anyone else for that matter. It's up to _you_.' She sighed. 'People may have their suspicions, but only _you _know how you really feel about him. How _do _you feel about him, Ralph?'

The teen blushed crimson.

'I think that I lov . . . I care for him,' he finished lamely, changing his mind halfway through.

'And will your feelings for him be there no matter what? Or will they fade with the distance and time that passes? Do you care for him enough to want him back? Enough to try and work through your differences and be together?'

If possible, Ralph's face became redder.

'Okay, you don't have to actually _tell _me your answers,' Mrs. Macpherson responded, her smile widening. 'But those are the type of questions that you have to ask yourself, Ralph. Usually, the right path is the most difficult.' Suddenly, her smile vanished; in its place was a slight frown. 'And sometimes, you just have to let people go, and that's always hard.' She sighed. 'I don't know if I've been much help, dear. And I know that I contradicted myself at times, but that's just because this is such a tender and difficult subject to talk about, let alone experience.'

'More than you realize,' Ralph replied in a sort of daze.

'I know, dear. Jack is a special person to you, and I know that you're special to him as well, Ralph. I hope that everything will work out all right. I trust that you will make a good decision.'

Ralph vaguely noticed that his mother said "_good _decision" and not "_right_ decision".

'So if _I _can put trust in you,' she continued, 'trust is something that _you _should be able to put in yourself as well, innit?'

'Yeah,' the teen agreed halfheartedly. 'Thanks for your advice, mum.' He kissed her lovingly on the cheek. Then he stood up and began to make his way back to his room. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that his mother had retrieved her book once more to continue her previously interrupted reading, but he didn't have to look very closely to know that her eyes were not moving across the page.

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Mr. Macpherson was a constantly busy man. He was a workaholic, if you will. He knew that he had a problem, that he didn't spend enough time with his family, that he hardly knew his only son. However, he was always able to reason against such facts, convincing himself that all he did was for them.

He wanted them to be with him, which is why they were frequently moving. He wanted to show them wonderful places, which is why he sometimes hired a tour guide to take them around the city (_sans_ him; by "them", he literally meant just _them, _for he was much too busy to join his wife and child). He wanted his son, Ralph, to attend only the best of schools, which is why he worked so hard to be able to afford the tuitions and such for the prestigious institutions.

What he _didn't_ want was to be like a "regular" family, just an average run-of-the-mill unit with nothing that makes them extraordinary . . .

. . . And what he didn't _know_ was that the one thing his family needed was just that.

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Mr. Macpherson arrived home late from work one night, only to be surprised to see his wife sitting on the couch with a book.

"Good," he thought. "She's relaxing. I'd loathe for her to tire herself out after having unpacked so many things without any help. I just _can't _believe that she wouldn't let me hire anyone! She can be _so _stubborn sometimes."

'Good evening, dear,' he said, calmly placing his suit jacket and briefcase on the nearby ottoman.

'Uh-huh,' she said without looking at him.

'Really into your book there, huh?' he teased.

'Uh-huh.'

Ralph's father smiled and sat down beside her.

'Do you mind if I sit here?'

'Uh-huh.'

Now he was slightly anxious.

'Are you all right?'

'Uh-huh.'

Mr. Macpherson sighed and rested his feet on the coffee table.

'No feet on the table, please,' his wife suddenly said.

He started; then grinned.

'Ah, so you _are_ in there somewhere!' he exclaimed, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.

'Uh-huh.'

He sighed again and returned his feet to the ground. It was apparent that she did not wish to speak with him at the present time . . . Then again, she was acting rather strangely. His wife appeared to be in some sort of daze, and he vaguely wondered why.

'Honey, are you sure that you are all right?' Mr. Macpherson asked again.

She nodded silently.

'Why do you ask?'

'Well, you're usually a quick reader, but not today—not really. Indeed, you've been staring at the same page since I arrived.'

Mrs. Macpherson finally glanced up at her husband.

'Maybe I'm just tired.'

'I doubt that.'

This time, it was her turn to sigh.

'How did you know?'

'I'm your husband. I know these things . . . Besides, I am also a successful businessman,' he said, puffing out his chest proudly. 'I _have_ to pay attention to the little details.'

'Stop it, darling!' she laughed.

He laughed along with her, but it was not long before his expression became serious once more.

'So, what's wrong?'

'I'm worried,' she responded.

'Worried? Why? Is it our home? Do you not like it here? We've had this conversation before, dear.'

'I know, and the house is fine. It's just that . . .'

'Yes?'

'It's Ralph.'

'Ralph?' he inquired, slightly surprised. 'Why?'

'Well,' she said slowly, hesitantly, 'I don't really know if I have the right to tell you.'

'The right? The _right_? He's _my_ son as well!'

'I know, but he told me some . . . things . . . in confidence. I would hate to break his trust.'

'Very well,' Mr. Macpherson relented, lovingly kissing her forehead. 'But I don't think that you should be worrying yourself over his problems, honey. He's old enough to deal with them himself now.'

'I know.'

'And just by being there you can support him.'

'I know.'

'But . . . would it make you feel any better if I had a talk with him?'

She looked up at him.

'Yes. I think that I would like that.'

'Okay. It's done.' Mr. Macpherson stood up and pressed one last kiss to her lips. 'I love you, darling.'

'And I love you as well, sweetheart.'

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_Knock knock._

'Ralph?' the teen heard someone's muffled call from behind the door.

Ralph tiredly glanced at the door, but he did not reply.

'Ralph? Son, are you awake?' the voice asked.

Said teen sighed and rolled over. He knew that it was his father behind the door, although he was not precisely certain as to why; the former _never _did anything like that! However, in light of the most recent events, only one thing came to mind and he _really_ did not wish to speak to him about that. Ralph yawned widely as his father knocked on the door once more. The former was so tired, but he could not sleep, and that incessant knocking was definitely helping . . . not.

Apparently taking his silence as, "No, I am not asleep", Ralph's father let himself into his son's room and turned on the light.

'Son? Ralph?' he inquired softly.

Ralph groaned and pulled his covers up over his head.

'Okay, so this probably _wasn't_ the best time to come.'

'Really?' the teen replied sarcastically. 'Leave me alone. I'm trying to sleep.'

Suddenly, a memory flashed through Ralph's mind, one from a different time (obviously) and place . . .

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Flash! Boom! Bang!

_'Daddy?' the young boy inquired softly._

_The man snored loudly._

_'Daddy?' the boy said again. This time, he tapped his father lightly on the shoulder._

_The latter irritably turned away from the touch._

_'Daddy, I'm scared,' the boy said, cowering away from the window._

Flash! Boom! Bang!

_Outside, a thunderstorm was roaring. Lightning flashed across the sky. _Flash! _Thunder followed its mistress shortly after. _Boom! _And rain landed on the window in heavy sheets. _Bang!

_'Daddy!'_

_'What, Ralph?' the man finally replied, his voice hoarse from sleep._

_'Can I sleep with you tonight?' the boy asked quietly._

_'Go to your mother.'_

_'Don't you remember? She's out of town for the weekend. She's visiting a friend.'_

_The man groaned irritably and buried his head under the covers._

_'Daddy?__ Can I stay with you? Daddy, please?' The little boy prodded his father's shoulder again._

_'Leave me alone, Ralph,' the man said. 'I'm trying to sleep.'_

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His father . . . Even when Ralph had been young, his father hadn't really been close to the stereotype of a "good" father. For years, Ralph had tried to reason with himself (in almost the same mannerisms as the latter) that his father showed his love for his family in different manners. He was always busy because he was trying so hard to earn a good living for his family. He had never physically or mentally abused his wife or son (except for his constant absences, which couldn't be helped). He tried to keep their family together, resulting in their constant moving.

Eventually, however, Ralph realized that his attempts to get closer to his father were in vain and he developed indifferent feelings towards the man whom he called his father. And indifference was much worse than hatred, for it revealed that the teen hardly acknowledged the elder man.

At the moment, however, Ralph couldn't help but acknowledge him, whether it was with irritation or anger or . . . earnest? Yes, earnest. Ralph really wanted advice and maybe, just maybe, his father would be able to help him.

'I know that you must be tired, sport,' the latter said, calling his son by his childhood nickname, 'but your mother said that there was something on your mind. You don't have to tell me what it is, but I'm here for you if you need me.'

'We both are,' Ralph's mother added, stepping into the room.

Ralph looked at his mother accusingly.

'Don't worry, sweetie, I didn't tell him,' she said.

'No, she didn't,' her husband agreed, seeming slightly disappointed, 'although I would appreciate it if _you_ told me.' He sat down on the edge of the bed. 'I know that I'm not the best of fathers, and I really don't have an excuse for that. And I . . . Well, I have some time now. I promise to listen to you if you want me to.'

As if on cue, his beeper began to vibrate loudly, signaling that someone was trying to contact him.

'You better get that,' the teen said gloomily. Of course, that had just been another one of his father's empty promises. He was too busy of a man to pay any heed to his son, regardless of the fact that Ralph was his only child.

Then Ralph's eyes widened in surprise when he saw his father take out his beeper and simply shut it off.

When the latter saw the shocked expression on his son's face, he smiled and set said object on the nearby nightstand.

'I said that I would listen, didn't I?'

The teen realized that his father was serious . . . so he told him.

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An hour or so later, Ralph's parents emerged from their son's room with identical contemplative expressions on their faces. The latter closed the door behind them with a snap and followed her husband down the corridor.

'You have met this "Jack" fellow, right, dear?' the father asked.

'Yes, I have.'

'And . . . what do you think of him?'

His wife sighed and sadly glanced back at her son's closed bedroom door.

'Our meeting was brief, dear,' she replied. 'And my opinion makes little difference because he's special to _Ralph_.'

'Right. Ralph said that he had known Jack from that island disaster, when they and some others were all stranded all those years ago.'

'Much has changed since then—some for the better and some for the worst. When people spend so much time together at such a close, compact proximity,' she continued, 'they cannot help but realize certain . . . feelings.'

'But they were only young boys back then,' the man said. 'They are well past that stage in their life. They are men now. The kinds of emotions that they have would have to be different from back then.'

'Yes,' his wife agreed. 'It is difficult to know for certain, but perhaps in Ralph and Jack's circumstances, the feelings have always been there and have remained with them throughout their years apart..'

'Yes . . . feelings . . .' he said slowly. 'But didn't he say that they were enemies on the island?'

'He did,' his wife agreed. 'However, I do not believe that things have always been that way.'

'What do you mean, dear?' The man was obviously confused.

'I mean that I strongly suspect that they were friends at some point during their time on the island together.'

'Now that you mention it, an initial friendship between them seems to make sense,' Ralph's father said. 'After all, boys don't just make enemies on the spot, and Ralph has always been level-headed. He wouldn't simply mark a complete stranger as a potential enemy.'

'I wonder what happened,' the woman said thoughtfully. 'It must have been something dreadful, but Ralph appears to have forgiven Jack for . . . whatever it was.'

'Yeah . . .' her husband said slowly. 'I still find it rather surprising that Ralph is not interested in women. He's had girlfriends in the past, has he not?'

'It is not a matter of men or women. Ralph feels this way because it's Jack; it makes no difference to him what gender group his loved one is a part of,' the woman said wisely.

A comfortable silence passed between the two as they made their way downstairs to the living room.

'Is Jack good enough for Ralph?' Ralph's father finally asked, for the question had been bothering him for some time now . . . Well, at least ever since Ralph had told him what had happened.

'He seems like a good person, honey. And I believe that anyone—man or woman—is "good enough" for our son as long as he's happy.' She paused for a moment. 'But . . . if their separation is making Ralph unhappy, I don't want him to risk such unhappiness again by returning to Jack. It would be best for them to keep apart.'

'Yes. I, too, would prefer it if Ralph stays away from Jack and recovers from his apparent bout of depression. I just want him to be happy.'

The two adults did not realize the slightly slouched silhouette of their son standing hidden in the shadows, whom heard _every_ _word _that had passed between them. However, only two "choice" phrases stood out in his mind:

"_It would be best for them to keep apart_," she said.

"_I, too, would prefer it if Ralph stays away from Jack . . ._" he said.

Neither of his parents wanted him to return to Jack.

"So what do _I_ want?" he wondered.

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_But there's no way  
How can I replace  
Love so strong  
When I can't forget your face  
Do you still remember me  
How could you forget  
You're everything I need  
I'm out here on the ledge  
There's no words for me to say  
And too much to regret  
You're where I should be  
Do you remember when _(2)__

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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: "How Could An Angel Break My Heart?", Toni Braxton

(2) Mini-Disclaimer: "Remember Me", Marc Anthony. To me, this is such a depressing song, but it's still really good!


	12. Weekend 1

_Author's Note: If my calculations are correct (which they should be, since I went through all the previous chapters), the last chapter took place on a Wednesday. Now, this chapter skips ahead to take place on the first weekend of Jack and Ralph's breakup. And do you know what that means? That there is only one week left and then Jack can finally tell Ralph the truth! Hooray!_

**(12) Weekend #1**

**"The rhythm of the weekend, with its birth, its planned gaieties, and its announced end, followed the rhythm of life and was a substitute for it." — F. Scott Fitzgerald**

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With everything that had happened during the week—which included the unfortunate breakup with Ralph and the random bouts of playing the kissy face game with Cristóbal—Jack had been unable to find time to visit Mr. B at Brown Cow and confirm his schedules and such. He desperately needed this job, but first, he needed to see Mr. B about the details, just in case something wouldn't work out. It was best to find these things out as soon as possible, lest he wasted his time by getting trained and such.

Feeling rather anxious, Jack woke up earlier than he usually would on a Saturday morning. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was only 7 a.m., much too early for the restaurant to be open. Feeling slightly disappointed that he would have to put off his meeting with Mr. B for another few hours, the teen reckoned that he may as well make the most of the his time since he was awake anyway.

Jack forced himself out of bed and, after hastily washing up and changing out of his jimjams, he went out to look for any odd jobs that his neighbours may need help with. Maybe he would be able to earn a bit of cash by painting a fence or mowing the lawn or something. Anything was worth a shot, especially since he needed the money in order to help support his family. Besides his pride, he wouldn't lose anything by doing such menial jobs. He just hoped that there were at least a _few _people out this early in the morning . . .

Score! He spotted one!

'Hello, sir!' Jack called out to an elderly man, whom was just stepping outside in his pyjamas to retrieve the morning newspaper from his porch.

'Good morning, young man,' the other greeted him kindly. When he realized that Jack wasn't going anywhere, he asked, 'Is there something I can help you with?'

'No, sir—it is quite the opposite, actually.'

'Really?'

'Yes,' Jack nodded. 'I was wondering if there were any jobs that you could offer me for today. Do you need your lawn mowed? Or your roof fixed? Or is there something that you need to pick up from the dry cleaners?'

The man looked at him oddly.

'Well,' he said slowly, 'as a matter of fact, I need my new prescription from the pharmacy.'

'Say no more, sir, I can get it for you,' Jack said, happy to have found a job so quickly, however temporary it may be.

His neighbour laughed amiably.

'You seem like such a nice lad, but you appear to have done things in the incorrect order?'

'Oh? How so, sir?'

The man held out his hand.

'My name is Harry.'

Jack grinned.

'I'm Jack. It's nice to meet you.'

'The pleasure is all mine.' He clapped the teen on the back heartily. 'Now, about that job . . . Go to the pharmacy just around the corner over there,' he said, gesturing with his newspaper, 'and ask for someone called Chuck. He's a nice lad, too, and he's from South Africa . . . Well, perhaps not a "lad" per se. I do believe that he may be older than I am.' He laughed heartily. 'Anyway, where was I?'

'The prescription, sir?'

'Ah, yes. Ask for Chuck—he should have my prescription. Just tell him that "The Jet" sent you.'

Jack laughed.

'Forgive me for asking, sir,' he began politely, 'but . . . "The Jet"?'

'Because of the noises the rear end of a jet makes,' Harry responded, grinning.

'I see,' Jack said, all the while thinking, "That was a little too much information there."

Harry must have read his mind, for he added, 'Sorry, lad, it's just a little joke between two old fogies.'

'Right. I'm on my way, sir!'

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'Tell me again why I have to go to this dinner party thing,' Ralph whined as masculinely as possible.

His mother tutted loudly and began to rummage through his closet for suitable attire for the irritable teenager.

'Because,' she said, 'he is a colleague of your father's and it would be nice for you, his only son, to make an appearance, however silent your presence may be.'

'For how long?' he asked stubbornly.

'Until it is over,' she replied, pulling out a classic black suit and tie combination. 'Now, stop asking questions and get dressed.'

He sighed.

'Yes, mother.'

Mrs. Macpherson smiled gratefully and left the room, closing the door behind her.

As much as Ralph did not want to attend some stranger's house, he did not wish to disobey his parents either. With a heavy, dull heart, he changed into the outfit that Mrs. Macpherson had chosen out for him; not that he really cared if she chose it or he did, as long as it was dark enough to reflect the shadows of his soul.

"But am I really the one with the black heart, or is it Jack?" he wondered.

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_Black, black heart_

_Why would you offer more_

_Why would you make it easier on me_

_To satisfy_

_I'm on fire_

_I'm rotting to the core_

_I'm eating all your kings and your queens_

_All your sex and your diamonds _(1)

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In Ralph's opinion, the evening had proven itself to be rather uneventful thus far, for it was just like any other "adult" party that he had been to—boring.

Upon their arrival, he and his parents wandered around in a tight cluster greeting everyone and asking how things were, how their children were doing, how their dogs were acting after being neutered . . . The usual. (It was rather amusing, actually. Ralph didn't think that his parents even _knew _half those people they were talking to prior to the five-second introduction from the host.)

After some time, the three of them had drifted off into their different groups; his father went away to converse with his work buddies (since this party was pretty much meant for them), his mother exchanged baking recipes with "the wives", and Ralph . . . was dead bored. The only person who was even close to his age was Brad, whom was about twenty-five years of age and did not seem the slightest bit interested in getting to know Ralph. Brad apparently took after his father, for his groomed attire and bland expression matched the latter's quite well . . . Not that Ralph really knew whom his father was, but all the men in the room (including his father) resembled each other so well that they could have been brothers, even that Chinese man across the room sort of looked like his father's long-lost brother or something.

Anyway, returning to the present moment, dinner was being announced by the host's wife. Her name was Mary, or Marie, or Maria, or something like that.

'Dinner is now being served in the dining room,' she announced brightly, flashing a pearly white smile.

"Fake," Ralph thought. "Definitely fake. There's no way that her teeth can be so naturally white like that . . . Well, this is the world in which my father belongs, so I may as well get used to it. I still remember when he used to tell me that I would be just like him; of course, that was when I was much younger than I am now. But if this is the type of world that I'll be entering—so fake—then I don't think that I'd like being corrupted by it." He smiled to himself. "Well, I guess I don't have _too_ much to worry about, since I am most definitely _not_ like him. It doesn't look like I'm going to reproduce or carry on the family name or whatever. Heh!"

Ralph snickered darkly and made to enter the dining room along with everyone else (since he had already fallen slightly behind), but something caught his eye. It was a photograph that was resting on the shelf above the fireplace. It had evaded his attention before, for he had been too consumed in his own thoughts and his own boredness. Now, however, the image caught his eye.

It was a picture of the host and his wife, as well as a young boy. The picture, judging by the quality, was taken while on vacation some time ago. The three were standing together in front of the Opera House in Sydney, Australia. They looked so happy!

Ralph allowed his gaze to wander to the other photos beside it. There was another one of the family; this time, they were standing in front of the Eiffel Tower . . . and now the Statue of Liberty graced them in the background . . . and there were the Aztec Ruins.

"Wow, they certainly got around," Ralph thought, amazed. "But I wonder where their son is now. I'm pretty sure that all of these pictures were taking a while ago, since it doesn't look like the hostess has had the time to have any plastic surgery or anything. She looks older now than she does in the picture, so that means he—their son—will be older now . . . But I haven't seen any trace of him here. I haven't seen anyone like this around here.'

No. He definitely hadn't seen anyone with eyes that shone like that, that looked so pure that one couldn't help but be fascinated by its innocent glory.

Then his eyes fell upon the final picture. It was one of those typical school photos, where the subject is usually staring off into space or whatever. The most important aspect of it, however, was that this was a clear, close up portrait (unlike the ones that were taken on his vacation with his parents). The teen's eyes widened slightly when he saw whom it was. _Surely _he was mistaken! Ralph squinted slightly to read the year printed in the corner of the photograph. The picture was taken about six years ago, so the child in the image would be about his age now. But then . . .

'Oh, there you are,' the fake Mary, or Marie, or Maria, or whomever said, sounding relieved.

Ralph started and turned to look at her.

'We were wondering where you were,' she said. Her eyes (which were a clear, blue shade, but nowhere near matched the wonderful hue of her son's eyes) glanced over to see what it was that he was looking at. 'Ah, I see that you are interested in our family photos,' she said, a tinge of pain caused by a shadow from long ago laced her voice.

'He . . . he is your son?' Ralph asked, although it wasn't really a question.

'Yes. He was.'

'What happened to him?' Ralph braced himself for the answer.

'He died.' Tears welled up in her eyes.

'I'm sorry.'

'It's not your fault.' She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. 'Our boy was always so considerate and generous; he always put others before himself. In the end, I think that it was . . . a broken heart that . . . did that to him.'

Ralph bit his lip, wondering if he should ask his next question, but he soon realized that he didn't have to.

'He would be around your age by now; I think that you would have liked him.' She blew her nose. 'Ah, yes, our Simon (2) was the little ray of sunshine in our lives—my husband and I, that is.'

Although he had already realized that their son was none other than Simon (of whom he had never met his parents prior to the island incident), another conclusion entered Ralph's mind and his breathing quickened. The expression "it's a small world" is greatly underrated, for such a . . . _coincidence _seemed so surreal.

"Impossible," he thought, immediately dismissing the idea.

'Ralph? Ralph, dear? Are you all right?'

'Er . . . Yeah, but I'm . . . I'm afraid that I am suddenly feeling unwell,' Ralph responded hastily.

Although, "unwell" was hardly the proper word to use. Perhaps "shocked" would be better, with a generous helping of guilt at the side. He couldn't believe that he had accidentally been so mentally rude to _Simon's _mother (think: "fake teeth"), especially after how kindly the boy had always treated everyone.

'Er . . . I think that it would be best if I just went home,' the teen said.

'But what about dinner?' she asked. 'You haven't eaten anything yet.'

'I know, and I'm sorry. I'm sure that it is delicious,' he finished lamely.

'Are you sure that you're all right? Do you need someone to drive you home?'

'No, that's fine.'

'Truly? I can call a cab, if you'd like. It would not be a problem.'

'No, thank you,' Ralph said politely. 'I'll just walk.'

'But if you're unwell . . .' She sighed. 'Very well. It is your decision.' Then she smiled. 'I'll go and tell your parents not to worry about you.'

'Thanks.'

She patted him affectionately on the shoulder and walked away, muttering, 'The teenage mind is so strange at times.'

With his head still reeling slightly, Ralph left.

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_Fly me up to where you are_

_Beyond the distant star_

_I wish upon tonight_

_To see you smile_

_If only for a while_

_To know you're there_

_A breath away's not far_

_To where you are (3)_

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But Ralph did not go home.

No. He decided to wander about for a while. Maybe the fresh air would help to clear his head, for a thousand thoughts and questions were running through his head at lightning speed.

"Simon? Those were _Simon's_ parents! Why am I suddenly encountering ghosts from the island? And by ghosts, I mean old 'acquaintances' of mine, of course. First, there was Jack. Then there were the twins. Now there's Simon! Who's going to be next? Piggy? Roger? The deranged pilot? What the fuck is going on? Why is my past coming back to haunt me all of a sudden? It must be my karma (4) or something.'

Eventually, the teen found himself in the park near Simon's house. With his head still reeling slightly from the ideas pouring forth from it, he headed to lone wooden bench and collapsed onto it. The bench was located at the edge of the pathway that he had been walking along. Above it loomed a single lamplight that made it possible to view the lush greenness of the grass and the dull hue of the pavement, which were separated by the bleak beige of the bench's fading wood.

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to see some of the others from the island. It's all in the past now, so maybe things can improve for us in the future . . . but only if they've gotten past the whole 'kill Ralph' stage of their lives. I could do without that," his mind rambled.

He sighed and rested his hands at the behind his head.

"Maybe this whole 'ghosts-who-are-not-really-ghosts from the past' thing isn't so bad," he thought. 'After all, I'm reacquainted with Samneric and they turned out okay. Mind you, they _didn't_ want to kill me to begin with. They never really went through the 'kill Ralph' stage; they were just following orders from their 'leader'. Stupid Jack. He went and turned everyone against me for not helping them to hunt down those stupid pigs. Well, I'm _sorry_ for wanting to escape that damn island, Jack Merridew!"

At the memory of his now-former lover, Ralph felt a pang of pain in his chest.

'Stop!' he told himself firmly. 'Stop brooding over the past! Stop brooding over Jack! It's over. There's nothing that can be done, and I have too much fucking pride to beg him to take me back. He's not worth it.'

"Yes, he is," a little voice in his mind argued.

Ralph ignored the retort.

Just then, a stray cat wandered towards him from behind. Her black fur stood out in stark contrast to the grass beneath her. Ralph, however, had not noticed her sudden arrival and continued to stare at the sky.

'You think that you hold all the answers, don't you?' he muttered sarcastically to the stars. 'Well, newsflash! You don't! All you do is sparkle fancily in that black blanket of space . . . But I guess I owe you _some_ credit, because one of you is close enough to shine some sunlight onto our otherwise dull planet . . . not that it helps _me_ much, though. Sunshine is useless to me unless—'

He paused in his musings, for something just reentered his mind. It was the same conclusion that he arrived at when Mary-Marie-Maria-whomever said something about Simon, although—at the time—he had dismissed it as impossible. However, not that he had thought through some of the things that had happened to him in the past year, perhaps it was not so impossible after all . . .

The teen started when he felt a smooth tongue graze his fingers. Glancing down, he finally noticed the cat and smiled welcomingly.

'Out for a late night stroll, are you?' he asked.

In response, she meowed softly.

He laughed and absentmindedly stroked her downy—although slightly grimy—fur with his hand. After all, she _was_ a stray. Now, where was he? Ah, yes . . . What was it that she, the hostess, said again? Something about Simon and sunshine or whatever . . .

_"Our Simon was our little ray of sunshine."_

Hmm, interesting . . . Sunshine . . . Simon . . . er . . . Simon . . . Little . . . Ray . . .

_Ray . . . _

_. . . Ray . . ._

'RAY!' he exclaimed, suddenly sitting up.

The cat hissed at him, for she became startled by his sudden outburst.

'Sorry,' he apologized, petting her gently.

She immediately forgave him and purred softly.

Not that he noticed, though. Ralph was too deep in thought to pay close attention to his surroundings.

'Ray . . . Simon . . . Ray is Simon . . . Simon is Ray,' he murmured to himself.

'It took you long enough to figure out,' a sudden—although slightly familiar—voice said.

Immediately alert, Ralph jumped to his feet in surprise.

'Ray?' he called out uncertainly.

Then said teen stepped out from behind a tree nearby.

'You rang?' he inquired in the uncanny imitation of Lurch from the Addams family (5).

'Simon?'

"Ray" bowed down at the waist. When he arose, his face had changed to resemble that of his past being, Simon.

'Simon!' Ralph exclaimed. 'Holy shit. It really_ is _you.'

'You were expecting the Tooth Fairy (6)?'

'No, but . . . I thought that you were dead.'

'I am.'

Ralph felt stupid.

'Obviously, but . . . What happened? Were you just suddenly reborn with magical powers or something?'

'Yes . . . and no.'

Confused, Ralph ignored his last set of questions and persisted with a new round.

'What are you doing here? Why have you come back? Why now? Does Jack know that you're Simon?'

When he paused to take a breath, Simon replied, 'Yes, he does.'

'So why didn't you tell me?'

'You are asking a lot of questions,' the other teen said, not answering the question.

'Well, duh! How would _you_ react if one of your old friends suddenly came back to life?'

'Touché,' he replied with a grin. 'But I am not what you would call "alive", Ralph. To answer your question as to _why_ I have returned, it is became I have come here to help you.'

'Help me? I think I had better sit down for this.' The latter teen shakily lowered himself onto the bench, where the cat jumped up beside him a moment later.

'New friend?' Simon asked, amused.

'I guess,' Ralph said with a shrug.

Simon sighed and sat down next to his companion.

'Okay, Ralph, what I am going to say isn't precisely going to . . . satisfy your curiosity,' he said frankly.

"'Isn't precisely'?" Ralph repeated mentally. "Either it is, or it isn't."

''There are some things that you just have to figure out on your own,' Simon continued.

'But what _can_ you tell me?'

'That things are not always as they appear to be.' He turned away for a moment, obscuring his face from Ralph. When he turned back, his face had transformed into that of Ray once more.

'Can you cool it with the whole changing thing?' Ralph asked. 'It's freaking me out.'

Ray laughed.

'I don't have a lot of time today, Ralph, so I'll make this quick. There are things going on that you are not aware of.'

'Huh? What things?' Ralph asked, but Ray ignored him and continued.

'Patience and love can help you get through these things. Search inside yourself.'

_'What things? _Do they have to do with Jack?'

Once again, Ray ignored his question.

'Keep an eye out for me,' he said instead, winking mysteriously. 'I'll be back.'

And he was gone.

The cat wandered away soon after.

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Jack felt terrible. The day had been terrible. The pay had been terrible. Everything was terrible!

Firstly, there hadn't been too many jobs available. Since it was Saturday, a lot of people were feeling productive because of the lack of office work or whatever that they had to do and many had declined his offer. Besides, why would you pay someone if you had the resources and time to do it yourself for free?

Secondly, most of the jobs that _were_ available were so stupid! He actually climbed a tree to retrieve someone's cat. Not only did the cat go back up again, but Jack had fallen from the tree several times before he finally managed to make it to the same branch that the cat was sitting on. It had been such a long time (i.e.: the island event) since he had climbed a tree that he had many of his attempts became failures.

Thirdly, the amount of money that he received had been _crap_! Since the jobs he did were not actually "official" or anything, the whole "minimum wage" bit didn't apply to him. As such, the people who he worked for took advantage of it and paid him below minimum wage. That really, _really _sucked!

Jack was in a terrible mood when he returned home late that evening. He had just finished a babysitting job for two monsters . . . I mean, _children_ . . . and he was exhausted! Without even bothering to take off his shoes, Jack dragged himself into the living room and flopped on to the couch.

"Maybe tomorrow will turn out better," he thought, trying to be optimistic. "I can only hope!"

The one good point of the day was perhaps—no, not "perhaps", but "certainly"—his meeting with Mr. B. The latter had given Jack a tour of the restaurant, talking to him, asking questions, and encouraging the teen to ask questions of his own as they went through the supplies and equipment. The two had only vaguely discussed how the business worked, for Jack would learn that on his own when he physically started working there. As well, they talked about Jack's pay and how often he would work there.

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_'You're one of my top priorities right now, Jack, m'boy,' Mr. B said. 'So, I'm going to try my best to give you a schedule that you'd like.'_

_'It doesn't really matter to me,' Jack replied offhandedly. 'As long as I only work on Fridays and Saturdays and as long as I have the option of trading shifts off, I'll be happy.'_

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And he was . . . happy, that is. He had a job. He had a job and he would be able to help his mother with their declining financial situation. As well, since he was Mr. B's "top priority", his work would not interfere with his schooling.

Jack had completed his meeting with Mr. B after an hour or two. And, since he had nothing else planned for the day, he resumed his random jobs with his neighbours . . . which basically led to a hellish Saturday overall.

But it was over now and Jack was home, away from everything! For the time-being, at least, he did not have to worry about anything. Besides, he was too tired to do so anyway.

Yawning widely, the teen closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to wash over him.

He was asleep not a moment later.

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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: "Black, Black Heart", David Usher. You know, I had a lot of difficulty understanding what this song meant. Even now I am unsure if my "analysis" is correct. Oh well . . . Have you figured out why I'm suddenly using so many song lyrics? Besides the fact that I think it's kind of neat, I'm also just getting lazy and the lyrics make the chapters appear slightly longer. Ha! You're getting gypped!

(2) Yay! Simon is back! So . . . you know what's coming, right?

(3) Mini-Disclaimer: "To Where You Are", Josh Groban. Such a sad song!

(4) If memory serves me right, karma has something to do with the reincarnation process that Hindus believe in. If you do something bad, that will reflect on you in your next life. (Please don't throw bananas at me if I'm wrong!)

(5) Mini-Disclaimer: The Addam Family, but I don't know who they belong to.

(6) Mini-Disclaimer: Obviously, the Tooth Fairy is not mine.


	13. MagLev Returns

_Author's Note: Sorry, I know that the last couple of chapters have been BLAH. As in, nothing really happened. Unfortunately, nothing really happens here either. BUT I HAVE A REASON FOR THAT! Please, be patient. All this is going to lead up to something. I just needed a way to introduce . . . stuff. You'll find out. Enjoy!_

**(13) MagLev Returns**

**"Art is not to be taught in academies. It is what one looks at, not what one listens to, that makes the artist. The real schools should be the streets." —Oscar Wilde**

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Putting it mildly, the weekend had passed by rather unpleasantly for Jack.

And then came Monday, which was not much better.

The teen had not been up to going to school, for he was still feeling miserable. Of course, he had no choice in the matter and had to force himself to get up. As he readied himself, he reflected a bit on the past weekend.

Overall, it had been an absolute horror. However, it had cheered him up slightly when he had deposited his meager wages into his mother's palms. She had refused at first, but he insisted and she eventually accepted the small coins that he had managed to earn. Despite her earlier refusals, it was clear that he had made her happy.

"But this can't go on," he thought, depressed, as he headed out for school. "The pay that I got was crap. In all honesty, I doubt that my part-time job will do me any better since I can work no more than two days of the week. Shit, what am I going to do?" He contemplated this for a moment. "Hmm . . . Maybe the guys can give me some ideas."

So, during first period, he invited them all to chat with him, taking care not to catch Ms. Levington's attention this time.

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_Lil__ John says: sup, jak? _(What's up, Jack?)

_Freddie says: aint the fraze 'wuttup, doc'? _(Isn't the phrase, 'What's up, doc'?)

_Lil__ John says: w/e _(Whatever.)

_Freddie says: NOT w/e _(_Not _whatever.)

_Freddie says: u hafta get it ryte! _(You have to get it right!)

_Lil__ John says: w/e _(Whatever.)

_Leeeee__ says: iph u guyz r dun arguing lyke pregnant ladyz, I du believ jak has sumfin 2sei_ (If you guys are done arguing like pregnant ladies, I do believe that Jack has something to say.)

_Lil__ John says: dat was meen! _(That was mean!)

_Freddie says: ya, u fukn pussi _(Yeah, you fucking pussy.)

_Leeeee__ says: shut it_

_Lil__ John: ne way..jak, da spotlyte ish urs _(Anyway . . . Jack, the spotlight is yours.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: fin'ly! _(Finally!)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: k, u guyz kno I was tryn to luk 4 a job, ryte? _(Okay, you guys know that I was trying to look for a job, right?)

_Leeeee__ says: ya _(Yeah.)

_Lil__ John says: ya _(Yeah.)

_Freddie says: ya _(Yeah.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: n u kno dat mr.b offrd me 1, ryte? _(And you know that Mr. B offered me one, right?)

_Leeeee__ says: ya _(Yeah.)

_Lil__ John says: no_

_Freddie says: no_

_Jack-in-the-Box says: sigh_

_Jack-in-the-Box says: nau u do _(Now you do.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: ne weh, dis wkend I talkd2 him bout details n w/e _(Anyway, this weekend I talked to him about details and whatever.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: n I also did a hole bunch ov randm jobz 4 pplz _(And I also did a whole bunch of random jobs for people.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: n..wel..da $$ was crap _(And . . . well . . . the pay was crap!)

_Lil__ John says: huh?_

_Jack-in-the-Box says: (ignore) nau i fig if I wrk w/ mr.b on wkends n do odd jobs evry nau n den (wn/e I hab tyme) den I'll b ok _((Ignore) Now I figure that if I work for Mr. B on weekends and do odd jobs every now and then (whenever I have time), then I'll be okay).

_Jack-in-the-Box says: but I unno _(But I don't know.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: wut u guyz tink? _(What do you guys think?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: got ne ideas? _(Got any ideas?)

_Leeeee__ says: go bak 2ur old job..w/ __ur__ old rep _(Go back to your old job . . . with your old reputation.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: .. (. . .)_

_Jack-in-the-Box says: (rollz eyes) _((Rolls eyes))

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In addition to actually physically rolling his eyes, Jack kicked Lee under the desk.

'Ow!'

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_Jack-in-the-Box says: no, stupyd _(No, stupid.)

_Leeeee__ says: y not? _(Why not?)

_Freddie says: cuz he's got ralf, lee _(Because he's got Ralph, Lee.)

_Leeeee__ says: oic _(Oh, I see.)

_Lil__ John says: how cud u 4get sumfin lyke dat? _(How could you forget something like that?)

_Lil__ John says: itz only shovd in2 our faces 24/7 _(It's only shoved into our faces 24/7.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: wtf is dat supposed 2meen? _(What the fuck is that supposed to mean?)

_Lil__ John says: sry, jak, dint meen it da way dat it came out _(Sorry, Jack, I didn't mean it the way that it came out.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: w/e _(Whatever.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: duz ne1 NOT hav a stupyd idea? _(Does anyone _not _have a stupid idea?)

_Freddie says: get 2nd job _(Get a second job.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: wut? _(What?)

_Freddie says: think bout it _(Think about it.)

_Freddie says: reg pay n benefits n stuff fr: mr.b AND __ur__ otha wrk 2 _(Regular pay and benefits and stuff from Mr. B _and _your other work, too.)

_Freddie+, it'll b 2 min wage $chkz, not da 1gud $chk n da crap coinz dat __ur__ pparently gettn nau _(Plus, it'll be _two _minimum wage paychecks, not the one good paycheck and the crap coins that you're apparently getting now.)

_Leeeee__ says: ya, reely sounds lyke __ur__ bein taken advtge ov, man _(Yeah, it really sounds like you're being taken advantage of, man.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: but do i hav da tyme 4 2jobz? _(But do I have the time for two jobs?)

_Lil__ John says: da pt ov a "p-t" job is 2 wrk "p-t" _(The point of a "part-time" job is to work "part-time".)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: ya, i kno. i aint an id't _(Yeah, I know. I'm not an idiot.)

_Lil__ John says: u ken do it _(You can do it.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: but_

_Jack-in-the-Box says: well_

_Jack-in-the-Box says: I reely nd a p-t job, but I unno iph I can comm't myslf 2 2 of em, least not in da wei I shud _(I really need a part-time job, but I don't know if I can commit myself to two of them, at least not in the way that I should.)

_Freddie says: den u got a prob, bro _(Then you've got a problem, bro.)

_Lil__ John says: amen 2 dat _(Amen to that.)

_Freddie says: wel, gues I cant really help u out den. dat was da onee sug'n I gotted _(Well, I guess that I can't really help you out then. That was the only suggestion that I had.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: k, thx ne wei, frd _(Okay, thanks anyway, Fred.)

_Freddie says: np _(No problem.)

_Freddie has left the conversation._

_Lil__ John says: mehbe u ken sing on da streets _(Then maybe you can sing on the streets.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: dat's an idea _(That's an idea.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: not_

_Lil__ John says: but __ur__ GUD singin! _(But you're _good _at singing.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: n i sed dat I nd'd GUD $$ _(And I said that I needed _good _money.)

_Lil__ John says: sry, mate, im flush outta ideas den _(Sorry, mate, I'm flush out of ideas then.)

_Lil__ John says: unless u wrk a lil bit mor oftn BC _(Unless you work a little bit more often at Brown Cow.)

_Lil__ John has left the conversation._

_Jack-in-the-Box says: u'v bin quiet, lee _(You've been quiet, Lee.)

_Leeeee__ says: r u gonna tell em? _(Are you going to tell them?)

_Leeeee__ says: bout u n ralf? _(About you and Ralph?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: ic no reason2 _(I see no reason to.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: wut wud it mattr?_ (What would it matter?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: itz only temp, afta all _(It's only temporary, after all.)

_Leeeee__ says: hopefully, 4 __ur__ sake _(Hopefully, for your sake.)

_Leeeee__ says: but wut iph itz not? _(But what if it's not?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: den I'll fig it out den _(Then I'll figure it out then.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: 4 nau, I'll jus w8 _(For now, I'll just wait.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: I'll kp my wrd bout not telln him.. _(I'll keep my word about not telling him . . .)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: 4 nau _(For now.)

_Leeeee__ says: kk _(Okay.)

_Leeeee__ says: on anotha note, ru sho u dun wanna go bak to __ur__ "old ways"_? (On another note, are you sure that you don't want to go back to your "old ways"?)

_Leeeee__ says: u made gr8 $$ bak den _(You made great money back then.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: ya, fr: u! _(Yeah, from you!)

_Leeeee__ says: ouch! dat hit home _(Ouch! That him home.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: itz tru tho _(It's true, though.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: fr: betz _(From bets.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: y dun u jus gimme da $$? _(Why don't you just give me the money?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: lol _(Laugh out loud.)

_Leeeee__ says: .. _(. . .)

_Leeeee__ says: ..how much u nd? _(. . . How much do you need?)

0000000000

Having just read that off of his computer monitor, Jack felt both cold and warm at the same time.

0000000000

_Jack-in-the-Box says: .. _(. . .)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: reely? _(Really?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: u aint jus shyttn me, r u _(You ain't just shitting me, are you?)

_Leeeee__ says: no, im ded ser's _(No, I'm dead serious.)

_Leeeee__ says: how much u nd? _(How much do you need?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: .. _(. . .)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: er..thx, but no thx, lee _(Er . . . Thanks, but no thanks, Lee.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: I g2 do dis on my own _(I have to do this on my own.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: but I reely appr'te da gest _(But I really appreciate the gesture.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: __ur__ a gud gi 2 hab round _(You're a good guy to have around.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: sumtimes _(Sometimes.)

_Leeeee__ says: blush _

_Leeeee__ says: wel, wut r u frenz 4? _(Well, what are friends for?)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: is dat a trick ques? _(Is that a trick question?)

_Leeeee__ says: shup, u pussy _(Shut up, you pussy.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: biatch _(Bitch.)

_Leeeee__ says: slut_

_Jack-in-the-Box says: a-hole _(Asshole.)

_Leeeee__ says:_ _fuckr_(Fucker.)

_Jack-in-the-Box says: losr _(Loser.)

_Leeeee__ says: skank_

_Jack-in-the-Box says: i kno u r but wut m I? _(I know you are but what am I?)

_Leeeee__ says: o, I tink dat's REELY mature, jak _(Oh, I think that's _really _mature, Jack.)

_Leeeee__ says: not_

_MagLev__ says: Do you want to know what _I _think it is?_

_MagLev__ says: Trouble._

_Leeeee__ has left the conversation._

_Jack-in-the-Box has left the conversation._

0000000000

"How does she _do _that?" Jack wondered, fighting the urge to slam his head down on the keyboard for having been caught . . . again! "Maybe she has a connection to all the computers or something that lets her do whatever. I swear, that _has _to be it! It makes sense, especially considering she _is _the teacher of a class of students that are bound to cause trouble."

Ms. Levington was looking at him right now. He knew that without even glancing up.

'If you two would be so kind as to join me for _detention _this afternoon,' she said with false sweetness, 'I would be much obliged.'

0000000000

Detention for Jack . . . again.

He didn't think that he even finished his numerous detentions with Lyori. However, the latter no longer persuaded the teen to return. Jack assumed it was because said teacher was probably fed up with his constant presence. Oh well.

Now, however, he had a detention with Levington. Jack vaguely wondered what his mother would think of that, considering she ever found out. It was not like Jack was stupid enough to tell her.

So, Jack and Lee spent their time after school as the jock straps for the football team. (Just kidding. I don't think that it's physically possible for humans to act as jock straps. Let me try again . . .)

So, Jack and Lee spent their time after school typing out reports for Ms. Levington. The two didn't really have an idea what the hell they were for, but they simply did as they were told. After all, the sooner that they finished, the sooner they would be able to leave. After spending so much time in the same room with "MagLev", they wished for nothing more.

0000000000

A couple of hours later, their wish came true.

'Man, that was brutal,' Lee said as the two of them walked down the corridor together.

'You said it, man,' Jack responded, stretching his arms. 'Then again, it could have been worse. We should be thankful.'

'What? Are you attempting sainthood or something?' Lee asked, cracking his back.

'Nah. But really, Lee, think about it. She could have made us clean up the locker rooms or organize the storage room or something. At least with typing, we just have to sit on our asses for a couple of hours.'

'Heehaw.'

'Very funny. I mean "bums", of course, stupid.'

'Who are you calling "stupid"?'

'I don't see any other stupid git around here, do you?'

'Not unless you're looking in a mirror,' Lee retorted.

'And looking over your shoulder.' Jack stuck out his tongue childishly.

Lee just laughed.

'Come on,' he said, flinging an arm around Jack's shoulders. 'Let's get the hell out of here. Being in school so late is starting to give me hives.'

'Right.'

The two teens quickened their pace slightly as they made for the nearest exit.

'_AHH_!'

A sudden scream of terror stopped them in their paths.

'What the hell was that?' Lee inquired.

'I don't know,' was Jack's reply. 'Do you think that we should go check it out?'

'Nah.'

'But what if it's important. What if someone is getting molested by a pervert or something?'

'I don't think so. Whatever it is has stopped now.'

Just then—

'WHAT THE _FUCK _IS YOUR PROBLEM!' cried out an obviously angry voice.

Confused now, Jack started running in the direction of the screams, his companion following closely at his heels. The scene they came across was definitely not one that they had expected.

JD, the student council Prime Minister, was standing rigidly and holding a metre stick in his hand. It didn't take a brilliant mind like Jack's (lol) to realize that he had been waving it around menacingly but a moment before.

Standing in front of the PM was Greg, the Deputy Prime Minister and, overall, a much nicer fellow than JD was, in Jack's opinion. In his hand, Greg held a frightening mask, which resembled something from a native tribe.

'Cool! What's that for?' Lee asked, eyeing the mask with interest.

'Yeah, isn't Halloween over?' Jack added.

'_This_, my friends, is a wall decoration for the next school function,' Greg explained.

'A tribal dance around a campfire?' Lee suggested.

'No. We thought about that, but having _everyone _in the _entire _school do that was too many people,' Greg said with a wink. 'We're going to have a masquerade ball. You know, where everyone where's neat costumes and masks and stuff, then reveal themselves at all at once.'

'It's another fundraiser for the student lounge,' JD said, albeit somewhat shakily.

'Okay, so that explains the mask,' Lee said. 'So what about the scream that we heard earlier.'

Jack snickered. He knew that Lee, like him, had already realized what the scream was; he just wanted to hear it out loud so as to embarrass the PM.

'Er . . . Well . . . about that . . .' JD stuttered uncomfortably.

Greg started laughing.

'Man, you should have seen his face!' he heartily said to Jack and Lee. 'It was like _whoa_!' And he imitated the PM's expression.

'Shut up, Greg,' JD hissed.

'That was priceless!'

'I said, "SHUT UP"!'

Of course, Greg was still laughing, but he at least had the decency to stop imitating the PM.

'When _is_ the masque?' Jack asked interestedly.

'This Friday.'

'So soon?'

'Yeah,' JD said. 'We wanted to announce it to the school last week, but we had a little bit of trouble with some of the arrangements,' he finished, glaring at his deputy PM.

'It's not _my _fault,' Greg defended himself. 'How was _I _supposed to know that Don's grandfather would suddenly fall ill?' He turned to Jack and Lee. 'You see, Don had to go to his grandfather's house in Italy. Because of all the hassle, he forgot to call—'

'Yes, yes, whatever,' JD intervened. 'The little _non-student council people_ don't have to know the details. The important thing right now is to give the dance enough publicity (in the short time that we have) to be successful.'

'What about girls?' Lee asked.

'What the hell are you talking about?'

'Girls! Not every student in this school is interested in guys, JD,' Lee said impatiently. 'You're going to have to get girls to come to our school if you want the dance to be successful.'

'Already taken care of, bro,' Greg said. 'I placed a call. It'll be the students from the all-girls school that usually attend our social functions.'

'All right then.'

'Gentlemen, I don't think that you have anything to worry about,' Jack said. 'This ball will definitely be a homerun hit! (Hehe, get it?)'


	14. Jacques leRange

**(14) Jacques leRange**

**"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." —William Shakespeare**

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When Jack entered the school with his friends the next morning, it was to see the coloured posters on practically every wall, and they all said the same thing:

0000000000

_MASQUERADE BALL!_

_Help to raise money for the new STUDENT LOUNGE_

_Time: Friday, __7 p.m.__ – __Midnight_

_Place: School Gymnasium_

_Prices: $8 per person or $14 per couple_

_Tickets will be available at the door. _

_(Remember to bring your student I.D.)_

_Don't forget to dress up! _

_Wear a costume! Wear a mask! Reveal yourself at __midnight_

_But most importantly, have fun!_

0000000000

'The poster is pretty queer, but this looks kind of neat,' Terry said, reading the ad over.

'Yeah, maybe I can ask Wendy if she'd like to come,' Fred said.

'Greg said that they were inviting some girls over,' Lee pointed out. 'Are you sure that you'd want to invite someone when there are so many others to chill with?'

'I don't care for such . . . ventures.'

'Are you even allowed to bring someone from another school?' John asked.

'Yeah, I'm pretty certain that we're allowed to invite whomever we want to,' the former reasoned. 'The other girls that Lee was talking about are just there for people who enjoy the single life.'

'Translation: the people who don't have dates,' John added.

'But that isn't really a bad thing,' Jack said. 'Some people just don't like going with dates. It gives them more freedom overall, right?'

'Yeah, I guess that you're right,' Fred said.

'And I'm sure that Lee is happy being a free man,' Terry said.

'Well, why give yourself unnecessary burdens?' said teen asked.

'So . . . I guess that means we're going then?' John asked.

'Hell yeah!' was the unified reply.

'Why not?' Lee asked. 'It sounds like fun!'

'Yeah, and it'll be good to raise money for the lounge,' Fred added.

'What about dates?' John asked.

'I don't think that I want a date for the dance,' Jack said. 'I just want to chillax without someone stuck to my arm all night.'

'Amen to that, dude,' Lee said. 'So how about you guys?'

'Don't care,' Terry said, indifferent.

'I'll probably ask Wendy,' Fred said with a blush.

'I can't get a date regardless of how much I try,' John said pathetically.

'I'm sure that's not true, John,' Jack responded. 'There must be a lot of girls who would go out with you.'

'And if not, you can just hang out with us, bro,' Terry said, and he gave his friend a noogie.

'No worries, John,' Lee said. 'Things will be aight.'

0000000000

'RALPH!'

Said teen turned around when he heard his name being called.

'RALPH! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!'

Finally realizing that it had been the twins who were calling him, Ralph made his way over to them.

The two teens were sitting on the front steps of the school. However, when their friend approached, they stood up to greet him.

'Hey!' Samneric said.

'What's up?' he asked tiredly, for it was still rather early in the morning—more specifically, before first period started.

'We're worried about you,' they said in unison.

'Why?'

'You're still acting so depressed all the time,' Sam said frankly.

'Have you at least _tried_ to get over the . . . you know . . . break up?' Eric asked in a hushed tone.

'That is really none of your business,' was Ralph's stiff reply.

'It _is _our business if it concerns you, Ralph,' the first twin said.

'Yeah,' agreed the second. 'We're your _friends_. We just want what's best for you.'

Ralph sighed.

'Sorry,' he mumbled. 'It's just . . . I still don't like to talk about it.'

'We understand,' Samneric said.

'And we're sorry for prying,' Eric apologized. 'We know that we shouldn't really be poking our noses into places where we're not wanted.'

'We're just concerned, that's all,' Sam added.

'Thanks, guys,' Ralph said to his friends. 'I appreciate the support, but I think that this is something that I should handle on my own.'

'Oh . . .' The twins trailed off.

'What's with the "oh"?' Ralph questioned. 'You guys didn't _plan _anything, did you?'

'Er . . . Well . . .' Sam said hesitantly.

"I don't like the sound of that," Ralph thought.

'Well, you've always been rather mellow and serious,' Eric explained, 'but this recent personality of yours is a bit . . . excessively emotional don't you think?'

'I've had some problems lately!' Ralph said hotly.

'And that's okay!' they said quickly.

'It's just . . . we've never seen you like this before, Ralph,' Sam said.

'You've always been able to keep a level head before,' Eric added.

'Maybe I've changed,' Ralph said.

'Or maybe your relationship with Jack has affected you than you're letting on,' Samneric said. 'We know that you loved him, so you must be in so much pain right now. Please, will you let us help you?'

'Huh? What?' Ralph inquired, clearly confused. 'What can you guys do? Um . . . I'm flattered . . . But I just can't! You see . . . I like you guys as friends and all, but I don't think that I'd want to go out with either or both of you! Er . . . No offence,' he added belatedly.

The twins laughed.

'None taken, because you seem to be making false assumptions,' they said between guffaws.

'However, we _do_ have a friend that we'd like to introduce you to,' Eric said.

'Yeah. A real catch,' Sam said.

'Oh yeah? Who?' Ralph asked.

'His name is Jacques leRange from one of our neighbouring schools,' the first twin explained. 'He's a friend of the gang—a really good guy.'

'Yeah, he's the captain of the fencing team at their school and receives the topmost grades in his classes,' the second added.

'Then why isn't this guy taken?' Ralph asked, biting down the fact that "Jacques" and "Jack" were the same name in different languages.

'Well, he's a big hit with the ladies, but everyone knows that Jacques only fancies blokes. He thinks that females can get too emotional sometimes,' Eric said, shrugging.

'Anyway, he had a falling out with his boyfriend of almost two years and—even though _he _was the one who ended it, the silly git—he is in a slight state of depression,' Sam said.

'And I am, too, so that's why you thought to introduce me to this guy!' Ralph accused angrily.

'Not at all,' was Eric's calm reply.

'Yeah,' Sam agreed. 'We thought of you because you are such a great guy.'

'You're intelligent,' Eric said.

'And funny,' Sam added.

'And kind.'

'And deep.'

'And sensitive to other people's feelings.'

'And a wonderful friend.'

'And bloody gorgeous!' Eric exclaimed with a slight giggle.

'Yeah, if we weren't straight, we'd fall for you in a heartbeat,' Sam said.

'Stop it, guys,' Ralph muttered, his cheeks flaming red.

'Okay, but the point that we're trying to make here—'

'Is that maybe it would be best for you to move on—'

'—and to do Jack and—especially—yourself a favour by letting go.'

'I've tried to,' Ralph replied. 'But it's so . . . difficult! I've never known pain like this, guys, and my pain from losing Jack is made all the more worse when you're basically telling me that I wasted my time with him, that I'm not good enough for him . . .'

'Is _that _what you think that we think?' Samneric exclaimed hotly.

'Yes! And what I want to know is _why_ you don't think that I'm not good enough for him!' Ralph retorted.

'That's not it, Ralph. That was never it,' Sam said.

'You _are _good enough for him. In fact, you're better!' Eric said.

'He's the one who's not good enough for you.'

'What?' Ralph asked.

'Do you remember when we were back on the island?' Samneric questioned.

'How could I forget?' Ralph asked darkly.

The twins smiled in spite of themselves.

Then Eric said, 'Do you remember how everyone looked up to you? When we first started out, you were the leader of our pack.'

'What's your point?'

'Our point is that you saw the long-term results of our actions,' Sam said.

'You knew that we had to work together in order to be rescued,' Eric added.

'So what?' Ralph asked.

'So, Jack wasn't like that,' Samneric said.

'He only saw things as they were,' Sam said.

'He only saw the short-term results,' the other twin said.

'When we hunted the pigs, he took pleasure in the hunt.'

'Once it was over, he took pleasure in the cooking.

'He took pleasure in the eating of the animals.'

'Then he took pleasure in gloating about how many pigs he had killed.'

'But pleasure only lasts so long,' Sam murmured.

'Jack only lived for the present, for those brief moments of pleasure.'

'Which is why he isn't good enough for you!'

'You're special, Ralph,' Eric said. 'You're a really special guy.'

'And anyone who would let you go just like that _can't _be good enough for you!' Sam exclaimed.

'Right. Someone like that would never be able to appreciate you as much as you deserve to be appreciated.'

Ralph, who had unwilling tears in his eyes by now, responded with, 'But I'd never have known unless I gave that person a chance. It's true, Jack _does _live in the moment, but that's one of the things that I love about him. I know that it would make things a helluva lot easier if you could, but you just _can't _make me fall out of love with someone, regardless of how wonderful this "Jacques" guy is.'

'So, you're not interested, Ralph?' Samneric asked, crestfallen.

'No, guys,' Ralph said, obviously having already thought it over. 'It's just too soon.'

'We don't mean to push it, but how about if you just meet the guy?' Sam suggested.

'Yeah, that would be a good—yet innocent—way for you to get to know him,' Eric said with a wink.

'Please do!'

'I guess there's no harm in meeting the guy,' Ralph responded, giving in to their pleas.

'Great!' Sam exclaimed.

'Okay, we'll call Jacques up so that he can come and meet the gang for lunch.'

'Today?' Ralph inquired.

'Yeah, why not?'

'. . .' The former rolled his eyes. 'Fine. Whatever.'

'By the way, I don't believe we've mentioned,' Samneric said, 'that Jacques leRange. . . is our cousin.'

0000000000

Eventually, his lunch period arrived and Ralph stuffed his belongings into his locker before unwillingly dragging his feet to the front of the school, where he was supposed to meet Jackson, the twins, and the rest of the gang . . . along with a fellow named Jacques leRange.

When he was near enough to see them, he felt a wave of relief to see that there were no unfamiliar faces in the crowd. No Jacques leRange.

"Good," he thought, jogging up to meet his friends. "I know that I agreed to see the guy, but it doesn't mean that I actually _want _to. Maybe I'll luck out and he just won't show up."

''Sup, Ralph?' Samneric greeted him.

'Hi,' the girls said giddily.

'Hey.' The others smiled and nodded their heads in acknowledgement to his presence.

'So, are you excited to see Jacques?' Kyra asked suddenly.

Ralph had to try hard not to let his disappointment show.

'He's still coming?' he asked in return.

'Well, yeah,' Terence said. 'Why wouldn't he?'

'Ooh, I'm so happy!' Kiki exclaimed. 'I haven't seen Jacques in _so _long!'

'Yeah, I was pretty psyched, too, when the twins said that they invited Jacques over to have lunch with us today,' Jackson said.

Terence and Diego nodded in agreement.

It was quite obvious to Ralph that the gang held Jacques leRange in high regard, at least friendship-wise. It was equally clear that none of them was gearing towards a more intimate relationship with him. Then again, everyone in the group was straight, so they wouldn't regardless of how wonderful Jacques was; the girls simply left him alone because he was gay.

'Oh, look! Here he comes now,' Kyra announced, staring somewhere behind Ralph.

Ralph groaned inwardly.

"Here we go . . ."

The teen hesitantly turned around and saw someone running towards them.

"That must be Jacques," he thought. "Well, he's not _bad _looking."

As the other teen approached, Ralph was able to see his features more clearly. Curly brown locks . . . a slim, yet strong, physique . . . a straight, aristocratic nose . . . bow-shaped lips . . . a slight moustache and a goatee . . . tanned skin . . . a dreamy smile . . .

It was perhaps the smile that caught Ralph's attention, for it seemed honest and true, as if he would never hide anything from you. He appeared to be outspoken, yet quiet, fragile, yet strong . . . Jacques' appearance contradicted itself in so many ways.

'You said that he's your cousin, right?' Ralph asked Samneric.

'Yeah, why?'

'I'm just confused . . . He's French, no doubt, but aren't you guys Italian?'

The twins chuckled.

'You always pay attention to the details, eh, Ralph?' Sam asked.

Ralph shrugged sheepishly.

'He's only half-French. His mum is our mum's sister and she married the leRange guy,' Eric explained.

'End of story,' Sam said.

'Oh, I see,' Ralph muttered, slightly embarrassed for not having realized that himself. He had assumed that Jacques was French because of his name, but he had overlooked the fact that his surname was that of his father; his mother, therefore, could be of any background.

_'Bonjour_, my friends!' Jacques beamed.

'Heh, you always do that!' Jackson said, laughing. 'If you're going to greet us, at least keep the language consistent.'

'But I do it because I know that it irritates you so, _mon__ ami_,' Jacques said, the sudden changes in language not having the least bit of effect on his accent; he spoke both English and French impeccably.

The others—including Ralph—laughed.

"This guy can be pretty funny," Ralph thought.

'And you must be Ralph, _n'est-ce__ pas_?' Jacques exclaimed, suddenly seeing him.

The other teen grew tense.

'_Mes__ cousins_, Samneric, have told me a bit about you, but I would like to learn more about you on my own, if that is all right.'

'Ah! Stop doing that!' Jackson exclaimed, covering his ear jokingly.

Jacques patted his friend on the back.

'I know that you are jealous of _moi_, Jackson. I, with my practically natural ability to communicate in _deux_languages, while you are stuck with only _un_.' He sighed dramatically. 'Ah, the tragedy of it all!'

The gang laughed.

'You figured it out! You realized my jealousy! Oh no!' Jackson said playfully.

'Well, I noticed it long ago, _mon__ ami. _Out of kindness, I chose to ignore it.'

'Right. To protect my pride.'

'_Non_, to protect _my _pride,' Jacques joked. 'Do you know how embarrassing it is to have _you _idolizing _moi_!'

Everyone laughed again.

Just then, Ralph saw a familiar someone off in the distance.

'Excuse me for a moment,' he said. 'I'll be right back.'

'Okay, as long as you come back, _monsieur_,' Jacques said with a wink. 'I still wish to know more about you.'

'Don't worry—I'll return,' Ralph said, trying to hide his blush. Then he took off down the road and turned the corner, where someone was waiting for him.


	15. Costume Hunting

**(15) Costume Hunting**

**"No dreamer is ever too small; no dream is ever too big." —Anonymous**

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'Simon, what are _you _doing here?' was Ralph's greeting.

'I told you that I'd be back,' the other teen said seriously.

'Can the others see you?'

'No, but it doesn't matter . . . What do you think you're doing, Ralph?'

'What do you mean?'

'I know what you're trying to do with this "Jacques" guy.'

'What?' Ralph said again.

'I've done some research on him and he's a really nice guy and all, but he isn't what you're looking for.'

'I'm sorry. You lost me when you asked, "What do you think you're doing". You'll have to just rewind and freeze for a moment!' the teen exclaimed. 'I'm not doing anything! I just agreed to meet the guy!'

Simon sighed.

'You just don't get it, do you? Subconsciously, you're trying to find somebody whom can replace Jack. You're trying to find somebody else whom you can love and whom can love you in return.'

Ralph stiffened in defense.

'This is only our first meeting, Simon, so you can't make any assumptions like that. I just agreed to it because of the twins.' He paused for a moment. 'Besides, my _former _relationship with Jack is something that you can't understand.'

'What can't I understand?' Simon asked, gesturing wildly. 'Pain? Heartache? Or is it _love _that I can't understand?'

Ralph didn't reply.

'Listen, Ralph,' Simon said, 'I'll admit, I have never loved anyone in the same manner that you love Jack, but I _do_ understand love, so don't go on making the assumption that I don't.'

'Then don't assume that my encounter with Jacques means something!' Ralph retorted irritably.

'Ralph?' two sudden voices inquired softly.

Ralph almost jumped fifty feet in the air with surprise.

'Samneric!' he exclaimed, grasping his heart. 'What are you doing here?'

'We came to look for you,' the twins replied. 'You left in a hurry and the gang grew worried.'

'It's nothing really, I was just . . . meeting a friend.'

And—unlike the time Jack's friends met "Ray"—the other two teens looked right at Simon, actually _seeing _him!

'SIMON!' they exclaimed in unison.

'Hi,' Simon said, grinning.

'Holy shit, we thought that you were dead!' Sam said.

'Yeah, we _saw _you die!' Eric said.

"And probably contributed to it," Ralph thought darkly.

'And I _am _dead,' Simon said calmly, as if he did this sort of thing all the time.

'How come they can see you?' Ralph asked. 'I thought you said that the others can't see you.'

'Ah, but you didn't ask _which _others.' Simon smiled almost mischievously. 'They can see me because they were present when I died.'

'Damn, Simon, you really know how to freak a guy out,' Eric said.

'Especially with your whole "I _am _dead" thing,' Sam agreed.

'We thought that we were going to have heart attacks for a minute there,' the twins said together.

'Sorry,' Simon apologized. 'I'm not an all-powerful, all-knowing being, so I didn't know that you two were coming. If I did, I would have tried not to shock you.'

'How?'

'By pretending to be someone else.'

Then, right before their eyes, he transformed into "Ray".

'Cool!' Samneric said. 'Can you turn into Ralph?'

Simon chuckled.

'Maybe another time, fellows,' he responded, reverting back to "Simon form". 'I just need to talk to Ralph for few moments'

'Okay, we'll just go then.' The twins turned to go.

'No, it's okay. You can stay if you want to,' Ralph said. 'Besides, I have something to say to you two as well.'

The two teens spun around on their heels to look at him.

'Does this have to do with Jacques?' they questioned.

'Yes.'

'Okay, shoot.'

'Look, I don't really know how long you guys were around, but Simon and I were talking and . . . yeah, I don't think this thing with Jacques is going to work you.'

Samneric appeared to be slightly disappointed.

'Okay,' they said slowly. 'It's your decision, Ralph. We just wanted to help you out a bit, that's all.'

'I know, and I thank you for that. Thanks for worrying about me, but I'll be fine.'

'What _did _you think of Jacques, anyway?'

'He seems . . . perfect!' Ralph exclaimed. 'Really, he is. He appears to embody anything that I could ever want in a partner, except . . . he's not Jack!' Ralph bit his lower lip anxiously as he gauged for their reaction.

'You really care about him,' Eric stated.

'Even more so than we anticipated,' Sam added.

'I love him,' Ralph said. 'You knew that.'

'But it's . . . over,' Samneric said hesitantly. '_You _knew that.'

'I know, but I just can't let him go.' He sighed. 'I envy Jackson and Kyra. Despite all the problems that they've apparently had, they have always remained true to their feelings in the end. (That's what you two told me, anyway.) They must really care about each other, I mean _really _care about each other.' He wiped a few stray tears from his eyes. 'I want what they have.'

The twins smiled sadly.

'Then go get it,' they said.

'Why bother?' Ralph asked. 'It would just be a waste of time.'

'It is never a waste of time to be with the one you love,' Simon said wisely.

'Still, Jack would never take me back, and I'm cool with that! It's enough for me to just give him my love, regardless of whether or not he loves me back.'

'Is it?' Sam inquired.

'Yes!'

'Then why do you envy Jackson and Kyra so much?' Eric asked.

'Because I . . . they . . . we . . .' Ralph stuttered, at a loss for an answer. 'Because of what they share,' he finally responded. 'What they share is special, and Jack and I could never be like them.'

'Then don't try to be,' Samneric said earnestly. 'Just be yourselves.'

'But . . . but . . . we're so different! We're _too _different!' Ralph exclaimed, as if purposefully trying to find reasons why they shouldn't be together (which he probably _was _doing unconsciously, since it seemed to ease the pain slightly). 'I love him—I love Jack Merridew so much that it hurts!' He let out a bitter laugh. 'But none of that matters, because we simply _cannot _be together and that fact scares me, guys! I don't _want _to have to go on without him, even though I know that I _have _to. A fish can fall in love with a bird, but where would they live?'

'Then I'll just have to make you wings (1),' Simon said. 'You love him, Ralph, you _want _him. Go after what you want.'

'But what if he doesn't accept me?' Ralph asked fearfully.

'Then go back to get your closure,' Samneric said carefully, avoiding the cliché statement of, "There are other fish in the sea", because they knew that Ralph would reply with, "None of them are Jack Merridew".

'But I don't know if I can deal with a second breakup,' Ralph said, trembling slightly now.

'Love is about taking risks, Ralph,' Simon said. 'You have to risk it all to win, because if you don't, losing is the _only_ option. You'll never know the results unless you try.'

That statement gave Ralph a bit more courage, so he said, 'Okay, I'll try my best.'

'Good,' Simon said. 'And I know of the perfect opportunity.' From his back pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper, which appeared to be a school flyer of some sort.

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_MASQUERADE BALL!_

_Help to raise money for the new STUDENT LOUNGE_

_Time: Friday, __7 p.m.__ – __Midnight_

_Place: School Gymnasium_

_Prices: $8 per person or $14 per couple_

_Tickets will be available at the door_

_(Remember to bring your student I.D.)_

_Don't forget to dress up! _

_Wear a costume! Wear a mask! Reveal yourself at __midnight_

_But most importantly, have fun!_

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'So . . . Friday night it is then?' Samneric asked, having glanced over Ralph's shoulder to read the poster.

'Friday night,' Ralph repeated.

"Please, God, give me the strength to do this . . ."

'Well, I must be on my way now,' Simon said, turning away. 'Oh, and remember, Ralph, that things are not always as they appear to be. Patience and love can help you get through these things. Search inside yourself.'

Ralph felt an intense wave of déjà vu from the last time Simon had said this.

'Why do you keep saying that?' he demanded. 'Tell me what the hell that is supposed to mean!'

But Simon had already vanished.

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The days that followed found Ralph frantically searching through costume shops, aided by the twins, of course. It wasn't until late into Thursday afternoon that they found something suitable (in Ralph's opinion) for the masquerade . . .

'How about this one?' Eric asked, pulling out a feathery costume that looked as if it belonged to Big Bird (2).

'NO!' Ralph exclaimed. He was getting so frustrated! This had to be—what?—the third costume store that they had visited in the past two days. Of course, the fact that they neither had a lot of time nor money did not help either. As well, they had homework and other commitments to worry about without having to dedicate so much time to costume hunting.

'I don't think we're going to find anything in here,' Sam said, wrinkling his nose slightly in disgust. 'Maybe we should hitch a ride on the bus that goes downtown.'

'Is there a costume shop downtown?' Ralph asked, pulling out a random set of clothes off of the rack.

'Maybe,' Eric replied with a shrug. 'I don't see why not.'

The shop owner, who had apparently been eavesdropping on their conversation, did not wish to pass up the chance to make a deal and decided to come over then.

'Is there anything that I may be able to help you with, gentlemen?' the old man asked kindly.

'Nah. We're just browsing,' Samneric said indifferently.

By now, Ralph was extremely fed up with their lack of progress over the course of the two days. Thus, the prospect of taking a bus downtown for the _sole _purpose of looking for a costume that he would only use for one night was not appealing. So . . .

'I'm just looking for something subtle,' he said to the owner. 'You know, a costume that isn't too flashy and won't draw much attention.'

"Or that _will _draw attention, but only from the right person," he corrected himself mentally.

'Something subtle . . .' the man repeated, thinking. 'So, am I right in assuming that you are _not _searching for something along the Halloween line of fashion?'

'Right.'

'It's for a masquerade,' Samneric explained.

'A masquerade, you say? Hmm . . . That makes it slightly more difficult, I think . . . Ah, yes, I believe that I may have just the thing for you. One moment, please.' He disappeared into the back room; not a moment later, he reappeared with a neat pile of black fabric in his hands.

Interested, the twins came over for a closer look.

'This,' the shop owner said, holding out the costume with a flourish, 'is one of my personal favourites.'

Hanging from the wire hanger was a Chinese-inspired outfit; Ralph immediately fell in love with it. Both the shirt and the pants were made of silk, although the first was red while the latter was black. As well, intricate designs of black and yellow had been threaded into the shirt, giving it a more dressy appearance.

Then the man pulled out the mask that went along with the costume. It had been fashioned to resemble a dragon, complete with artificial flames and shining scales. It was wonderful.

'It's . . . kind of simple,' Ralph said appreciatively.

'Yes, I agree. I believe that nice and simple is the key to a great costume. Just add a couple hints of pattern to give the outfit a slight flare and you're guaranteed a good time,' the man said, smiling.

'Sounds good,' Ralph said, secretly thinking, "I don't know what a costume has to do with a good time, but whatever. At least then we can finally put an end to this stupid costume search."

'Hooray!' Samneric cheered.

'Excellent,' the owner said happily.

'It'll just be rental, though,' Ralph clarified. 'If I buy this thing, it'll only sit in my closet for years on end, since I'll only be wearing it this one time.'

'Of course,' the man said, his smile wavering slightly. 'And which days would you like to rent it out?' He walked over to the cash counter and pulled out a binder.

'Tomorrow night,' Ralph said.

'Hmm . . . Tomorrow . . . tomorrow . . . I'm afraid that this costume is already rented out for tomorrow night, sir.'

Ralph frowned. What were the chances of that happening? (Jack's school had a masquerade, but that was in _London_, so why would anyone go to Surrey just for a costume?)

'I see,' the teen said slowly.

Obviously not wanting to lose a potential customer, the owner said, 'Just give me a moment, sir. I'm sure that we can find something for you.' After muttering something about only the "flashy" costumes being out on display, the man disappeared into the back room again. True to his word, he reappeared a moment later, holding another outfit.

This costume was composed of a shirt, a pair of trousers, and a cape. The "flare" that the owner spoke of was made up of the intricate designs threaded into the material. Thin swirls of white velvet spiraled its way about the cape in graceful designs; the shirt (like the former costume's) was made out of silk and appeared to move as easily and as flowing as water when it reflected just the right amount of light. The pants, on the other hand, were simple and looked very comfortable.

'Lovely,' Ralph breathed.

'Yes, it is,' the man agreed.

'Does it have a mask to go along with it?' Eric asked.

'Yeah, because without a mask, it kind of overlooks the purpose of a masquerade ball,' Sam said.

'Of course there is a mask!' the owner said impatiently. 'Silly youngsters.' And he pulled out said mask.

Ralph stared at the mask in shock.

'Er . . . Well, the mask for this particular costume may be a _little _overdone,' the man admitted. 'But since the outfit is rather simple, the mask has to be less . . . _subtle_ in order to contrast with it.'

The mask went along well with the black and white theme of the costume. It, too, was made of silk and it had black feathers coming out of the sides; tiny gold beads were placed along the border of the silk and the feathers.

Having apparently noticed the odd look on their friends face, the twins stepped in.

'Don't worry, Ralph. You'll only be wearing it for one night,' Sam reasoned. 'Does it really matter if it's a little extravagant?'

'Yeah. It doesn't really matter how "out there" you are, because everyone else will, more or less, look the same way.'

'Besides, even if you blush, the mask will only show the bottom half of your face,' Eric teased.

'Who would even care if you blush? It'll be too dark to see anything anyway!'

It was strange, really, because the twins were actually making sense. When the teen thought about it, he realized that they were probably getting fed up with costume hunting as well.

'Well, I guess,' Ralph said.

'So, one rental for tomorrow night, please,' Samneric said, as if they were ordering tickets for a movie.

'Excellent. But unfortunately—'

'Don't tell me that this one is rented out, too!' Ralph snapped impatiently; he was so fed up with costume-searching by now. 'You_ knew _that this was for tomorrow night, so why would you bring this one out if it is already taken!'

'Actually, what I was going to say is that the shop is only open during the week, so you will have to return it on Monday,' the man said.

'Oh, er . . . Sorry,' Ralph apologized. 'That won't be a problem, as long as I don't have to pay an extra fee or something.'

'No,' the owner said. 'That wouldn't be fair now, would it? What I _do _require in addition to your rental fee, however, is a deposit, which will be returned to you upon your return of the costume, of course.'

'Of course,' Ralph repeated.

'And how will you be paying?'

'Cash,' the twins said, thrusting a wad of bills into his hands before Ralph had the chance to protest.

The man ran it through and gave the twins their change.

'Thank you, sirs. You may pick up the costume anytime during the day tomorrow. I will have it freshly pressed, wrapped, and waiting for you.'

'Thanks,' the three teens replied, exiting the shop.

'Why did you do that?' Ralph asked his friends.

'It's our way of apology for trying to set you up with someone else,' Sam said.

'And for having so little faith in your relationship with Jack when you obviously care for him so much,' Eric added.

'Mind you, we've never had those feelings, so we don't understand them,' they said together.

Ralph smiled softly.

'I understand. Thank you.'

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'Now, are you _sure _that it looks all right?' Jack asked, spinning around to show his friends all the angles of the outfit.

'For fuck's sake, Jack, yes!' Lee practically yelled.

'Are you sure? I don't know about this whole glitter thing. It looks cheesy.'

'That costume is fine, Jack,' John said.

'Really? Are you sure?' Jack questioned again.

'Yeah,' Fred agreed with the other two. 'Can we get out of here now?'

'We all found costumes in _Costume Warehouse _within the first ten minutes of being here,' Terry said.

'Yet _you _take two fucking hours!' Lee exclaimed.

'Make is three,' Jack said with a sigh, disappearing into his change room again. 'I don't think that I want this one.'

'WHAT!' his friends screamed.

'Yeah, you heard me. I don't particularly like it.'

'The _Warehouse _is pretty big,' John said with a sigh, 'hence the use of the word "warehouse". Is there really _nothing _here that you like?'

'I'll answer that after I have another look around,' Jack replied.

'Who are you trying to dress up for, anyway?' Lee asked.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, you're spending an awful amount of time trying to find a costume that you'll only use for _one _night, and you don't even have a date! So who is it that you are trying to dress up for?'

Jack reappeared from the change room with a blank look on his face.

'I'm not trying to dress up for anyone,' he said indifferently, throwing the outfit onto the already-large pile of discarded clothes. 'Come on. Let's get out of here then.'

'But your costume!' Terry said, immediately getting punched irritably by the others. 'But . . . I mean, all this was for nothing!'

'No, not nothing,' Jack responded. He grabbed a costume off of the nearest rack. Without even bothering to look at it, he said, 'This will do just fine.' And he made his way to the cashier.

"Oops," Lee thought mischievously. "I seem to have struck a chord."

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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: The "Ever After" movie with Drew Barrymore (I forget whom it belongs to). I thought this part in the movie was so cute!

(2) Mini-Disclaimer: Big Bird is the gigantic yellow bird from the "Sesame Street" TV show.


	16. Masquerade

_Author's Note: Finally, the moment that you have all been waiting for . . . or the moment that _I _have been waiting for, anyway . . . THE MASQUERADE BALL! _

**(16) Masquerade**

**"We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance." —Japanese Proverb**

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Ralph stuffed his rented costume into his gym bag and zipped it shut. He had previously decided to change in one of the restrooms at the school, lest he attracts too much attention on the train with his mad attire.

"This is it," he thought, breathing deeply. "It's tonight. I'll finally see Jack again."

Torn between his feelings of joy and those of anxiety, Ralph pulled out the flyer again to make sure that he remembered everything.

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_Time: Friday, __7 p.m.__ – __Midnight_

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"Right, 7 p.m. So if I can catch the next train to London. I'll be okay," he thought, glancing at the clock. "I still have time. The next train doesn't come for another hour." Grateful for the prep time that he had, Ralph read further.

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_Prices: $8 per person or $14 per couple_

_Tickets will be available at the door_

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'Right, money!' he said aloud. The teen went over to his dresser and opened the top drawer to retrieve some money for his ticket. His hands froze when he noticed a small gold ring nestled in the corner.

"Jack's baby ring," he realized, pulling out said object. "'_For Ralph_'."

Biting his lip, he muttered to himself, 'If things don't work out, I had best return this to him.'

Ralph pulled out a fine gold chain and laced it through the ring. Then he clasped the chain around his neck.

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_But most importantly, have fun!_

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"'Have fun' my ass!" Ralph thought cynically. "I am _so _fucking nervous!"

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And his nervousness was just the beginning of his troubles.

Upon arriving at the school just after 7 p.m., Ralph faced a slight dilemma. The ticketmasters would not let him in without a proper form of school identification, which—of course—he didn't have with him.

'Look,' Ralph said, losing his patience. 'I don't attend this school now, or whatever other schools were invited, but I _used _to! I swear!'

'Yeah, right,' one of them said sarcastically. 'And _I'm _Keira Knightley (1)!'

'I wish that you were,' his partner said. 'She's a helluva lot hotter than you are!'

'Shut up!'

Then they turned their attention back to Ralph.

'We're really sorry, man, but those are our orders.'

'Right,' Ralph said, ready to concede defeat. So, all of this had been for nothing. He turned to go and abruptly bumped into another student. 'Watch where you're going!' he snapped irritably.

'Ralph?'

He glanced up to see whom it was he had bumped into.

'Eddy! Holy shit!' he exclaimed, looking over the extravagantly dressed teen. Eddy was wearing a flashy, violet ensemble that complimented his red hair colour well; in his hand he held a mask that vaguely resembled . . . something unknown to man. (What the hell?) 'I mean, hi,' Ralph said, trying to regain his bearings. 'How've you been?'

'What are doing here?' the redhead asked.

'Well . . . er . . . I came for the masque,' Ralph said, unconsciously tightening his hold on his bag.

'How did you even know about it?' Eddy shook his head in confusion. 'Never mind,' he said. 'I'll help you find Jack.'

'What?'

'Well, he's the one you're here for, right?' Eddy clapped the other teen heartily on the back. 'What a kidder you are!'

Ralph let out a fake laugh.

'Come on,' the red-haired teen said, gently nudging Ralph. 'I'm sure that he's around here somewhere. What a guy! Leaving his date alone like that.'

'Uh . . . Actually, he doesn't know that I'm here,' Ralph blurted out.

Eddy froze.

'What?'

'Um . . . Yeah. I wanted to surprise him,' he said sheepishly. 'You know, "reveal myself" at the stroke of midnight.' He shrugged.

'I see.' Eddy glanced up at the two ticketmasters, whom were currently occupied with other students. 'Interesting . . . So, they didn't let you in, did they?'

'Obviously not.'

'And you didn't try to sneak in?'

'I never thought about that.'

'Good boy,' Eddy said, patting him on the head like a dog. 'And it's a good thing that you didn't, because there are some teachers in there acting as security.'

'What?'

'Yeah, they're checking to make sure that everyone who goes in has a ticket.'

'How did you know that?'

Now it was Eddy's turn to look sheepish.

'You already tried to sneak in!' Ralph accused.

'Yeah, and they caught me. The costume kind of sticks out, you know. Have you ever tried to camouflage yourself to a whitewashed wall while in a peacock costume?'

"Oh, so _that's _what he's supposed to be!" Ralph realized, shaking his head in reply to the former's question.

'Anyway,' Eddy continued, pulling out his wallet, 'I just went back to my car to get money for my ticket.'

'I see.'

'So, my problem is solved!' Eddy exclaimed. 'Now what about you?'

'What about me?'

'You're still trying to get inside.'

'Nuh-uh. Not _still _trying. I _did _try and I failed!' Ralph corrected him.

'Unless you go in with me.'

'Huh?'

'You heard me.' He pointed out one of the masquerade posters.

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_Prices: $8 per person or $14 per couple_

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'By and by, it'll save us both money, too,' Eddy said.

'Not a bad idea,' Ralph said and he, too, pulled out his wallet.

'Okay, cough it up. I'll go buy them.'

'Uh-huh.' Ralph handed over the $7 and Eddy went to the ticketmasters to buy their tickets.

'Oh, so he really _did _used to come here?' Ralph overhead one of them say incredulously.

'Yeah, he just wanted to surprise someone here, that's all,' Eddy explained, and Ralph hoped that he wouldn't go into too much detail in case Jack found out somehow . . . or if they somehow recognized him themselves. After all, "the bet" hadn't exactly been kept quiet.

'It's a good thing that you came by then, Eddy,' the other ticketmaster said. 'I felt bad for turning the guy away.'

'Yeah,' Eddy said again. 'That would be a mistake. He's a good guy.'

Ralph blushed.

'I think that this mask is giving me a rash,' he heard someone say behind him.

'Tough luck, John.'

'Yeah, that's what you get for choosing such a plain costume.'

'Don't listen to them, John, I think that it's a lovely costume,' said a feminine voice.

"Those voices . . . They sound so familiar," Ralph realized.

'Still, you probably should have focused more on what type of mask you got,' another said.

'Well, how was _I _to know that this would happen?' the first said. 'I only tried it on for about 10 seconds!'

'As opposed to Jack over here, who spent a fucking two hours in the damn store!'

'Shut it. I found a costume, didn't I?'

Ralph felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest. No, it couldn't be . . . not yet. Bracing himself, he hesitantly turned his head to get a glimpse of the people behind him—they were all unmasked.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," he thought, sounding very much like a swearing machine gun.

Eddy, who noticed the apparent "danger" (or, at least, the uncomfortable look on Ralph's face), sashayed over.

'Come along, muffin,' he said. 'Let's get you changed.' And he put his arm around Ralph's shoulder (deliberately covering the other's face with his enormous sleeve) and led the other teen inside.

'Muffin?' Ralph echoed when they were out of hearing distance from Jack and his friends.

'I like muffins.' Eddy shrugged and slipped Ralph's ticket into his hand.

'Good luck, and be more careful,' he said with a wink. 'You don't want Jack to see you without your costume now, do you?' He glanced down pointedly at the gym bag in Ralph's hand.

Ralph smiled as Eddy walked away, pulling his mask into place as he went.

'Thanks, Eddy.'

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"I wonder who that guy was," Jack thought as he watched Eddy walk away with his supposed date. "He looked . . . familiar." Shrugging off the strange feeling that he had, he took $8 out from his wallet and held it out to the ticketmasters.

'It's on me,' someone said, pushing Jack's hand out of the way.

Surprised, the latter looked up . . . only to be confronted with a flashy, slightly creepy mask.

'Gah!' he exclaimed.

Since his mouth was showing, Jack was able to make out an apparent grin on the other's face.

'You don't recognize me, Jack?'

'Er . . . Cristóbal?' Jack asked uncertainly, hearing a slight accent in the voice.

The latter laughed.

'Maybe. I suppose that you'll just have to find out at midnight.' He held out $14 to the ticketmasters. 'One couple, please,' he said before turning to Jack. 'It'll be cheaper this way.' (Obviously, he had realized the same thing that Eddy had but moments before.)

'Thanks, but I can pay for myself,' Jack said defensively.

'Don't worry about it,' the other teen—Cristóbal?—said with a shrug. Then he leaned in closer to whisper in Jack's ear, 'You can repay me in other ways.'

Jack let out a nervous laugh.

'Yeah. Right.'

'I was serious,' the other teen said, obscuring brushing his hand along Jack's hip.

The latter shivered in response and he felt a shot of desire course through him as the hand drifted its way to his—

'Come on! Are you two coming or what?' Lee suddenly demanded. He and the others were already waiting by the door, having paid for their tickets during Jack's "conversation" with the other teen.

"Conversation? That was more like minor rape!" Jack's mind exclaimed.

"Not that you didn't enjoy it," countered his darker side.

"SHUT UP!"

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Ralph felt _extremely _self-conscious as he reviewed himself in the mirror in the men's room.

'This is so surreal,' he said to himself. He had stowed his bag away in one of the stalls, not really caring if someone stole it. All that was in there was his clothing, as he had decided to keep his wallet with him. Thus, there was really nothing in there worth stealing and/or couldn't be replaced.

Ralph sighed deeply as he reached for the door handle, bracing himself for what was to come.

'Well, here we go . . .'

It didn't take him too long to reach the gymnasium (once he finally found the courage to leave the restroom—it had taken more than several tries), for he recalled its location from when he had attended this school. Yes, the actually traveling part took almost no time at all. It was the entering that caused him problems.

"How ironic. I had trouble _exiting _the bathroom, and now I have trouble _entering _the gym . . . Well, I'll have to go in eventually," he reasoned with himself.

". . . But not yet."

Such was the conflict within his mind that it took him even longer to enter the gym than it did to exit the washroom. However, he eventually did (which was a good thing, or else this would be a very dull story) and was immediately taken back by the atmosphere.

On a raised platform (the same raise platform that Jack and his fellow students had participated in the karaoke contest, Ralph noted), there was a DJ playing around with his turn tables. Coloured lights flashed every which way, teasingly illuminating the various decorations that ornamented the walls. Along the far wall were a few tables with finger foods and drinks. As well, the bleachers were situated at the sides of the room for people to rest . . . It was the people who caught most of Ralph's attention.

Despite his hesitation to wear an overly flashy outfit, the teens before obviously were not thinking in the same manner. People shined brightly in every colour of the rainbow and then some. There were many who wore outfits with patterns of metallic gold and silver, others with geometric shapes stuck onto their legs, others yet with ribbons and lace and . . . hotdogs? That was certainly strange.

And then there were the masks. There were masks that covered either half or all of the person's features. A few were made of plastic or plaster. Some had scales or frills or pom poms. Many had feathers sticking out of the sides. All obscured the faces of the wearers, which—of course—was their purpose.

"Midnight," Ralph recalled. "Everyone will take off their masks at midnight. It's kind of like Cinderella (2), innit?" Still feeling extremely nervous, he loosened his collar a bit. "Now, I just have to find Jack." Having just realized something, the teen's eyes widened.

'SHIT! I DON'T KNOW WHAT HIS COSTUME LOOKS LIKE!' he exclaimed aloud.

A couple of girls hanging around nearby shot him curious looks, but he was otherwise ignored. Either that or no one else heard him over the music.

"How could I overlook something so stupid!" he asked himself harshly. "Sure, I saw him earlier, but that was just a glimpse! I couldn't get a good look at him when I was so fucking nervous that he'd recognize me! I don't want him to know that I'm here yet! I just need to . . . observe him first." Rolling his eyes at his own foolishness, Ralph looked hopefully around the gymnasium.

'Well, Jack is not really the "wall flower" type,' he muttered to himself, 'so I guess he'll be on the dance floor.'

So that was where Ralph went.

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It was true.

Jack _wasn't _the wallflower type. He was currently shaking his thang with a random girl whom he had grabbed upon entering the gymnasium. Lee had followed his example and started to dance with an unknown girl as well. Fred, being the more chivalrous one, politely asked Wendy (his date) if she would "care for a dance". Unfortunately, John and Terry were not so lucky as to obtain dance partners so quickly; they disappeared to the other side of the room, where a "refreshments" sign was hung in clear view.

'Is this great or what?' Jack called out to his two friends, who were dancing nearby.

'You said it, man!' Lee replied.

'Yeah, this is awesome!' Fred called out.

When the song ended, Jack took a moment to catch his breath. The music that had been playing was very lively and upbeat, and the teen had responded to it by (tastefully) jumping around and gyrating his body in rapid movements. Now, of course, he had to pay for that with his breathing patterns.

'Thanks for the dance,' his partner said, 'but I have to go now. My friends are calling me.' She smiled. 'Save another dance for me later, babe, okay?'

'You got it,' Jack responded, smiling as well.

And she left.

'Well, it looks like I have to find another dance partner,' he said to himself.

'Unless he finds you,' another said.

Jack whipped around.

'You again!' he exclaimed jokingly when he saw whom it was. 'It _is _you Cristóbal, right?'

'Maybe,' the other said.

"Well, whomever it is," Jack thought, "he is _definitely_ the same person that I saw earlier. Same costume, same mask . . . Yes, this was definitely him."

'Whatever,' Jack muttered.

'So . . . may I have a dance?' Cristóbal asked, bowing gallantly.

Jack fought the urge to giggle.

'Sorry, Cristóbal.'

'Sorry?' Cristóbal echoed.

'Yes, I'm sorry because there has been a sudden change in plans. I have decided to flutter around for a while to greet everybody. After all, I'm a social butterfly and it wouldn't be fair if you had me all to yourself, right?'

The other teen was obviously still confused.

'But you just said that you had to find another dance partner,' he reminded Jack.

'Ah,' the latter said, 'but I didn't say _when_.'

With a coy smile, he left.

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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: Keira Knightley, an awesome actress!

(2) Mini-Disclaimer: Cinderella, fairytale; author unknown.


	17. New Moon

_Author's Note: The quote below will be continued in subsequent chapters, kk? (WARNING! Slight lemon in this chapter!)_

**(17) New Moon**

**"I know you; I walked with you once upon a dream . . ." — song from "Sleeping Beauty" (which is Disney, I think)**

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It wasn't until a few hours subsequent to his already late arrival that Ralph finally found Jack. Sounds ridiculously impossible, right?

Wrong!

And why? Well . . .

Number one. Not only did Ralph not recall what Jack's costume looked like, he also forgot what the latter's friends were wearing.

Number two. It was a fairly large gymnasium, so even if he _did _know what Jack was wearing, finding said teen would be quite difficult.

Number three. The gym was full of so many people, making it much more crowded than it would be during a typical gym lesson.

Number four. Since the swarms were composed of people instead of stationary coconut bras, it meant that they were in constant motion. The people would not stay in one place for more than ten minutes at a time.

Number five. Ralph's rising temper was clouding his mind somewhat.

And that's that.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Ralph realized that he had only about an hour left to make his presence known to Jack. Having finally found the other teen filled him with hope . . . then anxiety . . . then fear . . . then hesitance. What was he supposed to do?

Ralph weighed his options.

He could go up to Jack, pretend that he was a stranger, and befriend said teen. Then he would reveal himself at midnight.

Or he could go up to Jack, pretend that he was a stranger, and seduce said teen. Then he would reveal himself at midnight.

Or he could avoid Jack completely and confront him at 11:59 p.m. Then he would reveal himself at midnight.

Or he could just content himself with loving Jack at a distance and _not _reveal himself at midnight.

Ralph sighed and watched his lover from afar. He was far enough to keep a low profile; thus, not attracting any attention from Jack and his group of friends, but close enough to be able to hear his musical voice and see his wonderful smile.

"That's the limit, of course," Ralph thought bitterly, "since that stupid mask is in the way."

"Still, he has good taste."

". . . It _is _a nice mask."

"What is it, though?"

"I don't know, a rabbit?"

"No, those are horns, not ears."

"A demon then?"

"Yup, that sounds about right?"

'So when are you going to go talk to him?'

Ralph jumped in shock.

'Shit, Eddy, don't sneak up on me like that,' the teen said. 'And how the hell did you know it was me?'

'Who else would look at Jack that way?'

'What way?' Ralph asked, trying to sound indifferent. 'You can't even see my eyes, so how do you know that I'm looking at him in a certain way?'

'I don't have to see your eyes. You wear your heart on your sleeve, as the saying goes,' Eddy said seriously. 'So you had better protect that sleeve.'

'Right. I'll do that,' Ralph said, rolling his eyes.

'So . . . I know that I don't compare to Jack, but would you care for a dance?'

Ralph hesitated and glanced back at Jack, whom was laughing merrily at a joke that Lee had told.

"Every time I see you smile, I fall in love all over again," the teen thought wistfully.

'Sure,' he said to Eddy, trying to push his thoughts of love away. 'I would love to dance.'

'Great! Let's go, _muffin_!'

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'Oy, look over there!' John exclaimed.

Jack turned to see where his friend was pointing.

'That's Eddy, isn't it?' Fred asked.

'Yeah,' John replied, 'and it looks like he finally found his date.'

The group laughed, for they had seen Eddy walk by earlier, _sans_ his supposed date. They had vaguely wondered if the two had gotten into a fight, but it looked as if it had been resolved now.

'I wonder what the bloke looks like,' Lee said, although it didn't really sound as if he cared.

'Well, you'll just have to find out at midnight, mate,' Terry said.

'Why bother?' Jack asked, watching the dancing pair disappear into the crowd. 'Anyone who would go out with Eddy must be ugly.'

There was a resounded "ooh" from the group.

'Seriously, though,' Jack laughed. 'Eddy's ego is so big that it makes me wonder if anyone can look at him as adoringly as his reflection does.'

'OOH!'

'That was a good burn, man,' Lee complimented him.

'Yeah!' the others agreed simultaneously.

'Am I interrupting something?'

Jack froze and slowly turned around.

'Shit, Cristóbal, I thought that you were Eddy!' He looked at the other teen, as if seeing him in a new light.

'What?' Cristóbal asked curiously.

'Shit, you're wearing the same costume as that guy!' Jack exclaimed, indicating Eddy's dancing partner. 'What were the chances of that happening!'

Cristóbal laughed.

'You're strange, Jack, but I like that.' He held out his hand. 'Are you ready to dance with me now?'

'Well . . .'

'You can't say that you're tired, because I saw you dancing with other guys earlier . . . so will you dance with me? One dance is all I'm asking, and I'm not taking "no" for an answer.'

'Then you pretty much decided my answer for me,' Jack said, feigning irritation. 'On one condition . . .'

'What?'

'Go get me some punch . . .'

'_What_?' Cristóbal repeated.

'Go get me some punch, _please_.' Jack sighed dramatically. 'I'm parched, Cristóbal. When you get back, _then _we'll talk about the whole dancing thing.'

Cristóbal grinned and tapped the other teen lightly on the nose.

'You . . . you . . . you drive me mad! I don't know why, but I plan on using the rest of the night to find out.' And he left to get the drink without another word.

"Ha, I've still got it," Jack thought satisfactorily, stretching his arms behind his head. Then he closed his eyes and leaned back against the bleacher behind him. After all, the refreshment stand was on the other side of the gymnasium. Since Cristóbal had to wind through so many people, he wouldn't be returning for a while.

'He's back!' John exclaimed, surprised.

'Yeah, and without your drink, Jack,' Lee said.

Jack opened his eyes to see that Cristóbal, indeed, was approaching him _without _his ordered drink.

'Back already?' Jack inquired, sitting up to properly look down at the teen. 'I thought that I said we'd talk _after _you got me some punch.'

Instead of a snappy comeback, Cristóbal simply didn't say anything. Rather, he held out his hand to Jack.

'So, you still want to dance, eh?' he asked, sounding a lot more confident than he felt.

It was true. He _was_ hesitant to dance with Cristóbal, because he was afraid of what would happen. Twice now, he had found himself in intimate situations with the other teen . . . and twice now, they had been welcomed, even yearned for.

It was a frightening thought, especially since he was still in love with Ralph.

But Cristóbal didn't know that. Presently, he held out his hand more insistently, as if _demanding _Jack to dance with him.

'Aw, give the guy a break, Jack,' Wendy said.

'He's certainly persistent,' John added.

Jack rolled his eyes; some friends _they _were.

'Think of it this way, Jack,' Lee muttered into his ear. 'If you dance with the dude, he'll have to leave you alone. He said that it's only one dance, right?'

'Right,' Jack whispered back. Then he turned to Cristóbal. 'Well, seeing as it's near the end of the masque, I suppose that I will have to concede.' He placed his hand in the other teen's. 'Let's go. Or, as you Spanish people said, "_Vamos_".'

The pair made their way to the dance floor . . . just as a slow song came on.

"Of all the rotten luck," Jack thought. "At least for a faster dance, I could have danced so erratically that he couldn't come near me." He let out an evil laugh.

His companion looked at him strangely, but didn't say anything.

"Okay, let's get this over with," Jack thought when they had arrived at the dance floor. He wrapped his arms around the other teen.

Cristóbal seemed shocked, but still, he said nothing.

"This isn't too bad," Jack thought. "As long as Cristóbal doesn't try anything, I'll be okay."

Time went in slow motion, and for a while, Jack felt as if they were the only two people there.

"I guess that I was nervous for nothing," he said inwardly, and he rested his head on his partner's shoulder. "This isn't bad, not bad at all."

The two spun slowly on the dance floor, and Cristóbal pressed his lips lightly to Jack's neck . . . but stopped there.

"Whew, for a minute there, I thought that he was going to go 'further'."

All too soon, the dance was over and the pair separated once more.

'One dance,' Jack said, having a slight feeling of regret. 'That's all you asked for.'

In reply, Cristóbal took Jack's hand and lifted it to his lips.

'Er . . . Thanks for the dance,' Jack said awkwardly, a bit off-balance from the sudden display of sweetness.

The other teen smiled and bowed gallantly; a chain necklace that was clasped around his neck slipped out from beneath his costume.

Just then, a glint of gold caught Jack's eye.

'What's that?' he asked his companion reaching for the small gold ring that hung from the chain.

The latter hastily stuffed the ring back into his costume.

In the semi-darkness, Jack was unsure, but he could swear that the other teen had mouthed "I love you" before disappearing into the crowd.

"That ring looked familiar," Jack thought as he dazedly made his way back to his friends. "I must have hallucinated back there, because it simply _couldn't_ be . . . could it?"

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A mere four paces away, although separated by a swarm of teenagers, Ralph touched his lips with the tips of his fingers. He couldn't believe that he had just done that. Not only had he approached Jack, but he had also danced with him, had also _kissed _him. Okay, so not on the lips, but the affection was there.

Ralph decided that the only part that absolutely _sucked _about their dance was that Jack thought that he was somebody else. Cristóbal, whoever the hell that guy was. The former assumed that it was the same teen whom he had seen speaking with Jack earlier, for he was wearing the same costume that Ralph was.

What were the chances of that happening?

Yes, chance seemed to play a large role in Ralph's life of late. He took a chance when he came to London to see Jack. He took a chance when he danced with Jack. He took a chance when he kissed Jack. He had already taken so many chances, but the sequence was not over yet . . . He was going to take a chance when he revealed himself to Jack.

"It's been so long since I've kissed Jack," Ralph realized, not for the first time. "Seeing him after so many months . . . I just couldn't help myself . . . Jack . . . My Jack . . . Do you still love me? _Could _you?"

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'Here's your drink.'

Jack looked up to see Cristóbal holding some punch in his hand.

'Sorry it took so long,' the latter apologized.

'Um . . . Thanks,' Jack replied, taking the paper cup drink and sipping it gratefully.

'I guess you owe me that dance now,' the other said with a grin.

Jack stopped drinking and looked at his companion strangely.

'I already did.'

'No, you didn't.'

'Yes, I did.'

'No, you didn't!' Cristóbal repeated.

'Yes, he did,' Lee stepped in. 'We all saw it.'

The others nodded in response and the Spaniard scratched his head in confusion.

'Oh, wait!' John exclaimed gleefully, as if he had just solved the secret of life. 'I know what you're doing. You're telling Jack over here that he _didn't _give you a dance yet, when—in reality—he did, so as to get _another _one! Not so sly, man. I figured out your intentions!'

'Huh?' Cristóbal muttered. 'What the hell are you talking about?'

'Whatever,' Jack said, recalling Cristóbal's earlier sweetness. 'I'll dance with him again.' He brushed his hand along the latter's arm. 'You just never give it up, do you?'

Cristóbal shrugged off his confusion and followed Jack onto the dance floor.

And they danced . . .

. . . at least, they started out that way.

Before long, Cristóbal was grinding his hips against Jack's buttocks and as they gyrating sexually to the beat of the music.

"This is certainly different from before," Jack thought, feeling the other's hot breath on his neck. "But I like it!"

His eyes were half-closed as he lost himself to the music (amongst other things, hehe). Despite his hazy gaze, he was able to make out another "dancing" couple. The pair was pressed so tightly together that if they were to move any closer, they'd be behind each other.

"That's hot," Jack thought breathlessly.

The two teens were so lost in each other that one even had his hand down the other's trousers, doubtlessly stroking him to completion. The latter was breathing heavily and his eyes were closed; not a minute later, he gasped with ecstasy. His partner was quick to capture his lips at that very moment in a burning kiss.

'Do you wish to be like them?' Cristóbal murmured into his ear, just loud enough to be heard over the music. 'We could be like them, Jack.' And he licked the sensitive area just behind Jack's ear.

The latter shivered with delight.

'Do you wish to be like them?' Cristóbal said once more.

He brought his hand up under Jack's arm and allowed it to gently cup the latter's face. Then he trailed it downwards . . . He caressed Jack's hard collarbone . . . He tweaked his nipples under the costume . . . He softly stroked his abs . . . And the hand went still lower . . . Then it stopped just at the waistband of Jack's pants.

'Watch them,' Cristóbal demanded softly.

Jack forced his eyes to open entirely. As he watched the others, he imagined that it was he stroking such a lovely, submissive body. Then he imagined himself entering another with all the passion that he possessed. And he imagined them riding out their climax together.

He imagined love.

_He hadn't felt this way since Ralph . . . _

'Can you feel their passion?' Cristóbal questioned, slipping his hand into Jack's boxers.

The other teen gasped as familiar emotions swept through him.

_He didn't want to feel this way with anyone but Ralph . . . _

'Can you feel their desire?' The Spaniard gently stroked the other, all the while pushing his own hardness against Jack's buttocks.

_. . . but he did._

As if miming the two other teens, Cristóbal kissed his companion just as the latter gave into his climax, and Jack would have become a crumpled heap on the floor if Cristóbal had not caught him.

"I guess that just about completes the almost-sex trilogy," Jack thought. "First, there was the classroom. Then, there was the men's room. Now, the dance floor." And he sighed.

'Come on,' the latter said, apparently assuming that the other teen's sigh was from his weakness. 'Let's get you some air.' Still supporting Jack (although it was probably unnecessary by now), Cristóbal made his way to the nearest exit.

All the while, the pair was unaware that a tearful set of eyes surveyed them as they went. Not long after, the "watcher" followed them.

Cristóbal led the way out of the gymnasium and back into the entrance foyer. It may not have been the fresh air of the outdoors, but it would have to do. Besides, it was close to midnight and he would loathe missing the big "unveiling".

'How are you feeling?' the Spaniard asked his companion with a smile.

'Okay,' Jack replied.

'Good enough to talk?' Cristóbal pulled off his mask to reveal his handsome—although somewhat sweaty—features.

'Don't you know the rules?' Jack teased. 'You're not supposed to take your mask off until midnight.'

'I know,' Cristóbal said seriously, 'but this is important.'

The other teen immediately lost his joking manner.

'What's up?'

Cristóbal shyly looked at the ground.

'Well . . . it's kind of difficult to just come out and say it . . .'

'Just spit it out!' Jack exclaimed. 'You're just postponing it.'

Cristóbal sighed.

'I guess that you're right . . . but, you know, it would help if you lost the mask for a bit.'

Jack laughed.

'Okay, fine.' As he pulled off his mask, he heard a sharp intake of breath. 'What?' he asked. 'Do I look that hideous without the mask?'

'Quite the contrary,' the Spaniard said. 'You're lovely.'

Jack blushed timidly.

'So . . . is that all?'

'No . . . but . . . I . . . it's just . . .' Cristóbal stammered uncomfortably.

'Forget it,' Jack said impatiently, pulling his mask back on. 'If you can't say whatever it is that you want to say, then I'm out of here.' He turned to re-enter the gym.

'Did you like it?' Cristóbal finally blurted out.

Jack spun on his heel to face the other teen.

'What?'

'Did you like it?' Cristóbal repeated. He took a step closer to Jack.

Jack stepped back automatically.

Cristóbal took another step.

So did Jack . . . only to realize that he was pressed up against a wall.

The Spaniard took one last step, closing off any remaining space between them.

'Did you like it?' he said once again. 'Do you like it when I . . . kiss you?' He dipped his head lower to capture Jack's lips in a quick kiss.

'What the fucking hell is this?' Jack demanded softly, almost dangerously. 'Sometimes, I have to force you to keep your hands off of me. Other times, you fool me with your chaste kisses,' he continued, recalling the sweet side that Cristóbal had revealed earlier that night. 'And then there are the times that you tease me! Over and over again, you bring me to the brink, only to abandon me! Tell me what you want, Cristóbal! I'm fucking tired of your games!' His voice had raised a notch or two . . . or three . . . or eighty billion.

'Maybe this isn't a game,' Cristóbal whispered. 'Maybe this is just the way that I am.'

'What?'

'I don't know how I'm supposed to feel around you, Jack."

"We all but had sex on the dance floor and _now _he decides to tell me how he feels!"

Then the Spaniard interrupted his thoughts.

'How should I act when I'm with you? Sometimes, I want to hurt you. Other times, I just want to hold you.' Cristóbal gently pulled off Jack's mask and leaned in closer so that his lips hovered above Jack's. 'Sometimes, I want to caress your body. Other times, I want to fuck you, claim you, make you mine!'

But he did not kiss him.

After making his little speech, Cristóbal pulled away, as if—despite his other wishes—he did not want to pressure Jack into a decision.

'I don't know how I'm supposed to feel around you, Jack Merridew . . . But,' the Spaniard continued, interrupting Jack's thoughts, 'I _always_ want you.'

So Jack kissed him.

The teen had listened intently to his companion's heartfelt words and gave into his desire.

He kissed him.

Cristóbal wanted him, and Jack wanted him, too. The latter slipped his hands around Cristóbal's neck to pull him closer, but then he suddenly froze halfway through his movement.

The Spaniard pulled away slightly.

'What's wrong?' he murmured hotly against Jack's lips.

As if suddenly coming out of a reverie, Jack pushed him away.

Cristóbal, having been caught off-guard, stumbled and fell to the ground.

'Bloody hell, Jack! Let's have a little flashback here! _You_ are the one whom kissed _me_, so don't go getting mad at _me _for it!' Cristóbal stopped his rave when he saw the wet streaks on Jack's cheeks. 'Jack?'

'I'm sorry, Cristóbal,' the latter said tearfully. 'But I . . . I can't do this. I want you, but I . . . I can't. I can't have you.'

'I'm giving myself to you—accept it.'

'I CAN'T!' Jack repeated desperately. '_This _. . . this is wrong. I can't do this.'

Without even bothering to take his mask back, he ran away.

Jack ran and he ran, not stopping until he reached the nearest restroom.

Then he puked.

He puked away his shock and his pain . . . his suffering . . .

The Spaniard's words rang through his head once more.

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_'I don't know how I'm supposed to feel around you, Jack. How should I act when I'm with you? Sometimes, I want to hurt you. Other times, I just want to hold you. Sometimes, I want to caress your body. But other times, I want to fuck you, claim you, make you mine!'_

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Jack wiped away a stray tear.

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_'I don't know how I'm supposed to feel around you, Jack Merridew . . . But I _always _want you.' _

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_Want _. . .

That's what Cristóbal had said . . . "_want_". He didn't say "love", or even "like". Just . . . "WANT"!

'I am a fool,' Jack muttered. "How could I have mistakened lust for love?" He crumpled to the ground; bringing his knees up to his chest, he protectively wrapped his arms around them in a tight embrace.

"I almost fell in love with him," the teen realized. "But . . . how could I ever bear to expose my heart to someone with such . . . _base _desires?"

A memory came to him then, one of another person.

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_Soft lips affectionately pressed to Jack's neck . . ._

_A ring of gold . . ._

_A mouthed "I love you" . . ._

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"Those lips," Jack thought, unconsciously bringing a hand up to his neck. "They felt different from Cristóbal's just now . . . That chain, Cristóbal didn't have a chain . . . The "I love you", Cristóbal only said that he wanted me."

'Who was that?' the teen asked himself aloud. 'He looked so much like Cristóbal with that costume.'

In the distance, he suddenly heard a bout of cheering.

"No doubt coming from the gym," he realized. "It must be midnight; I guess that the masquerade is over now. I missed the unmasking . . . Oh well . . . Cristóbal . . . Ralph . . .'

He remembered a letter that Ralph had written to him only a few weeks ago.

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_My dearest Jack,_

_It feels so strange to think. I haven't seen you for over a week!_

_I've seen the new moon . . . but not you. I've seen sunsets and sunrises, but nothing that compares of your beauty. I miss you like the sun misses the flower in the very depths of winter. The pieces of my broken heart are so small that they could be passed through the eye of a needle!_

_However, hope guides me. If I were unable to embrace that hope and hold it close to my heart, then I would have nothing. It is hope that gets me through the day and especially the night, the hope that after you had gone from my sight, it would not be the last time I set my eyes upon you._

_I miss you, Jack, and I love you dearly._

_With all the love that I possess, I remain forever yours,_

_Your Ralph_

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'Ralph, do you still love me? Ralph . . .' He closed his hands into tight fists, not knowing how he should feel. What he did know was that he missed Ralph; he missed Ralph now more than ever. He needed him in his life . . .

Ralph had given him everything, had opened up his very soul to Jack . . . and Jack had repaid him by putting him through so much pain.

More tears streamed down Jack's subdued face.


	18. Revelation

_Author's Note: Okay, slight turn-back in time now. Rewind to the part when Jack and Cristóbal are kissing, kk?_

**(18) Revelation**

**". . . I know you; the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam . . ." —song from "Sleeping Beauty"**

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Ralph couldn't believe his eyes.

Jack—_his _Jack—was kissing another guy, out of his own free will!

The revelation was sickening. He would have run out of the school and taken the first train home if Jack and his new _lover _(Ralph desolately realized) weren't standing by the only exit. So, Ralph was basically trapped inside the gymnasium until they would _kindly _decide to move out of the way.

'You have to face facts, Ralph,' the teen muttered to himself, feeling the beginning of hot tears making their way to his eyes. 'Jack Merridew doesn't love you. He doesn't know the meaning of love.'

He desperately fought back the urge to scream.

Not that it mattered too much, for just then, the rest of the world decided to scream for him. Having been so caught up with his thoughts of Jack, Ralph had missed JD—the leader of the student council—make the announcement that it was now midnight and everyone was to reveal themselves. The crowds had cheered rowdily in response.

Ralph glanced through the small window on the gym door, the same window that he had been using to watch Jack.

"The coast is clear—they must have left a while ago," he realized, seeing neither hide nor hair of Jack and his . . . _lover!_

Believing that he would not easily be missed from such a crazy group, he attempted to dodge out the door.

'Wait a minute,' someone said, grabbing a hold of his arm.

The teen's entire body stiffened when he saw whom it was that had grabbed him.

'And just where do you think _you're _going?' Lee, his face free of his mask, asked.

'The dance is over,' Ralph replied impatiently.

'Yes, I know, so why do you still have your mask on?' Lee asked playfully. 'You know the rules, bro. Lose the mask.' And he reached up to take Ralph's mask off.

'No! Wait!' Ralph protested.

But it was too late; his mask was gone.

'RALPH!'

'Let me go, Lee!' Ralph demanded in response. Unsuccessfully fighting back the tears that had threatened to overwhelm him, he tried to free his arm from Lee's now-ruthless grasp.

'What are you doing here?' Lee asked.

'Let me go!' Ralph said again.

The other teen's face hardened slightly.

'Does Jack know that you're here?'

For a moment, Ralph ceased his struggles.

'No,' he said honestly, although he was unable to meet Lee's sharp gaze. 'At least, I don't think so.' Then he glanced up at the other with tear-filled eyes. 'Don't tell him, Lee. _Please_, don't tell him!'

'I am not going to lie to my friend.'

Knowing that the battle was lost before it had barely begun, Ralph conceded his defeat.

'Fine, tell him,' he murmured darkly. 'But don't think that it'll make things better between us. He has a new _boyfriend_,' Ralph spat. 'By the way, since you're going to look for him anyway—' The teen pulled at the chain on his neck, easily snapping it. '—return this to him.' He deposited the necklace and the gold ring into Lee's hand and tried to free his arm once more.

'Wait, you can't just leave like that,' Lee said. 'You have to talk to Jack.'

'I have nothing more to say to him,' Ralph said harshly, now-violently attempting to liberate his sleeve from the other teen's grip.

This time, Lee let him go.

"It hurts," Ralph thought, pushing open the gym door and making his escape. "It hurts so much that I can barely breathe. Things have changed so much—it really _is _over between us now."

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_Jack, approaching him on the bus . . ._

_Jack, singing karaoke . . ._

_Jack, wearing a bathrobe and a shower, cap . . ._

_Jack, smiling . . . _

_Jack, laughing . . ._

_Jack, loving . . ._

_Jack . . . Jack . . . Jack . . ._

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Then . . .

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_'Do you think I'm attractive?' _

_'No, I think you're beautiful.' _

_'Am I in your heart?'_

_'No, you are my heart.' _

_'Would you cry if I walked away forever?'_

_'No, I would die!'_

_'And do you love me?'_

_'Yes, Ralph Macpherson. I will love you until the day that I die, and even then I will refuse to rest until I find you and we are together again.'_

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The recollections added to the pain in Ralph's already-broken heart.

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_Jack, killing a pig . . . _

_Jack, killing Simon . . ._

_Jack, killing Piggy . . ._

_Jack, attempting to kill Ralph . . ._

_. . . Jack . . . kissing another . . ._

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It was perhaps the last one that pained the teen the most to remember.

Ralph strolled down the front steps of the school with a heavy heart. He had not even bothered to retrieve his bag. Why bother? It wouldn't take away his pain. It wouldn't even ease it. He had his wallet. He had his return ticket.

He was going home.

'Once a whore, always a whore.'

Suddenly, another memory entered his mind.

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_'Things are not always as they appear to be,' Ray said. 'Patience and love can help you get through these things. Search inside yourself.'_

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Ralph let out a bitter laugh.

'That's fucking bullshit, Ray.'

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The dance had been over for a while now, and Lee realized that Jack had not yet returned.

"I wonder where he is," the teen thought, growing slightly worried. "I have to tell him about Ralph."

Lee was not the only anxious one.

Although still raving about how great the masquerade had been, it was clear to Lee that his friends were also worried about Jack. It wasn't like him to just _disappear _like that, especially during a party.

'Maybe he left,' Terry suggested, trying to ease the tension in the group. Sometimes, he wasn't just a big, stupid lug after all.

'Yeah, maybe,' Lee responded dazedly, 'but we don't know for sure.'

'Then maybe it's about time that we go and look for him,' John suggested.

The others nodded in agreement.

'Let's go then,' Lee said. 'Fred, you take Wendy home. It's not fair to her.'

'But I want to help,' Wendy protested, yawning not a second later.

Lee grinned.

'That's all right. Thanks for the offer, though.'

Wendy smiled.

'Okay, but have Fred call me if you find him, or I'll be worried sick all night that I'll never get to sleep.'

'No problem.'

'Come on then, Wendy,' Fred said, courteously taking her arm and leading her away.

'So . . . where should be start, guys?' John asked, clapping his hands together.

'Maybe he left,' Terry said again.

'It's a definite possibility,' Lee conceded. 'Okay, big guy, go to the pay phone and call up his house then.' He tossed Terry a quarter.

'I'm on it.'

And he left.

Lee looked at John.

'Any other ideas?' the latter asked.

'I think that he might still be around here,' Lee said. He glanced around at the people who were still hanging about, trying to spot Jack amongst them. Unfortunately, he saw no one who even vaguely resembled the other teen.

Neither did John.

'Okay,' he said. 'I'll ask around to find out if anyone had seen him.'

Then John left as well before Lee could say another word.

Lee stayed where he was, contemplating the situation. It was unlike Jack to miss the climax of such a grand party, so that meant . . . that something must be wrong.

"Maybe he saw Ralph . . . No, because then he'd be happy, not sad . . ." Lee thought. "Maybe he didn't realize what time it was and went to get something from his locker . . . No, even _I _don't believe that one . . . Maybe he ate something nasty and got sick . . . It's a long shot, but it's better than nothing."

So Lee made his way to the restroom, unaware that his idea of Jack being "sick" was closer to the truth than he realized.

Just as he made it to the gym door, however, someone halted his progress.

'Cristóbal, please move,' Lee stated, not unpolitely.

'Lee, can you please give this back to Jack for me?' the Spaniard asked, placing a mask into Lee's hand.

"Ah, so he _was _there during the unveiling," he thought. ". . . Maybe."

'Why do you have it?' Lee questioned in return.

'Long story, but . . . erm . . . also . . . tell him that I'm sorry.'

And he left.

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Jack hadn't moved from position since he heard the gym erupt with cries of glee. He was still curled up into himself, trying to fight off his demons.

It wasn't until he heard the resounding creak of the door in the near-silence that he found the mind to realize his surroundings once more.

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"Oh, good, I found him!" Lee thought happily.

'Hey, Jack-in-the-Box,' he teased, but it was not long before his fake smile dropped. 'What the hell is that odour? It smells like a sick ward in here.'

'I'm not,' Jack mumbled.

'Sorry? What was that?'

'I'm not Jack-in-the-Box,' Jack said.

'I was just teasing,' Lee responded, but Jack replied as if he hadn't heard him.

'I'm not Jack-in-the-Box,' he repeated. 'I don't _want _to be Jack-in-the-Box anymore. I want to be Jack Merridew again, but I want to spell "Merridew" with only one "r".'

'You're not making any sense, Jack.' Although he was apparently confused, Lee allowed his friend to rant.

'I want to spell my name, "Jack Merridew", with only one "r". And why?' Jack asked aloud. 'Because I'm missing an "r". "R" is a significant part of my name, of my life, and I'm missing it, Lee!'

'Jack,' Lee said reasonably, 'just now, you're the one who decided to use only "r", so you can't really say that you're "missing" it, can you?'

'But I didn't decide this,' Jack babbled on. '_You _did! You put my relationship with Ralph into balance when you forced me to break up with him!'

This time, Lee remained silent.

'"R" is a significant letter in my name; Ralph is a significant part of my life.' He sighed. 'I am Jack Meridew, "Meridew" with one "r" (1). I am no longer Jack-in-the-Box, Lee. I don't want to be "in the box" anymore. I will _not _be taken advantage of any longer.'

Somehow, Lee had the feeling that Jack's words were no longer directed from his vision of Ralph.

'What happened?' the teen asked seriously.

'I acted like a fool,' Jack replied.

And that was that; he said nothing else.

'You said that you don't want to be "in the box" anymore," Lee said, earning a confirming look from his friend, 'then don't be. Go to him. Go to Ralph.'

'But what about the whole "two weeks" thing?' Jack inquired.

Lee shrugged.

'Forget about it. It doesn't matter anymore; I know how you two feel about each other now. _I _was the fool, not you.' And he dropped the mask onto the floor beside Jack. '_This_, is from Cristóbal,' he said, 'along with an apology.'

Jack blanched.

'Don't worry. He didn't tell me anything,' Lee reassured him. 'And if you don't want to tell me either, then I won't pry. It's your business.' Then he pulled out the ring, which he had slipped into his pocket earlier. 'And _this_ . . . is from Ralph.'

Jack's face paled further.

'Ralph? Ralph Macpherson? Are we talking about the same Ralph here?' he asked, shooting one rapid question after another.

Lee nodded.

Jack took the ring from him and surveyed it closely.

"_For Ralph_."

After taking a deep breath, he asked his friend, 'By any chance, Lee, did the ring have anything else along with it?'

'Yes. As a matter of fact, it did.' And Lee pulled out the chain necklace.

Jack fainted.

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(1) Hehe, this part sounded so funny to me. The underlying layer is pretty sad, but the humour of "Jack Meridew with one 'r'" kind of kills it. LoL.


	19. Closing the Door

_Author's Note: I don't know recall mentioning this recently, but I do not know Ralph's last name. So in my fics, he is now "Ralph Macpherson". I haven't read the books in a while, and I don't remember if it even mentioned it. I only remember Jack's. Hehe, I love his last name. "Merridew"._

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**(19) Closing the Door**

**". . . Yes, I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem . . ." — song from "Sleeping Beauty"**

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There he was.

There Jack was.

After having traded his ticket for an earlier one, he was on a train to Surrey early the following morning, on his way to meet his destiny.

He sighed and leaned his head back against his seat, unconsciously tightening his hold on his jacket, which he brought just in case the weather grew cold.

"I never looked at his eyes," he realized, recalling the night before when he had danced with the other teen. "Never. Not once. I didn't recognize him. I _couldn't _recognize him. I'm such a sorry sod." And he desolately buried his face in his hands.

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_Knock._

Ralph tiredly buried his face further into his pillow, which was still damp from his recent tears. (Needless to say, it had been a restless night. He hadn't returned until early that morning and vaguely hoped that his parents hadn't realized how late he had been out. Oh well.)

_Knock._

The teen rolled over to lie on his back in exasperation. Rubbing at his eyes, he forced himself raise his head and groggily call out, 'Come in.'

His mother entered.

'Did you have a good night, Ralph?' she asked sweetly.

'Yeah. It was a blast,' he replied, forcing himself to sound happy.

'That's good. It's good to see that you're going out with your friends again. How are Samneric and everybody, anyway?'

'. . . Great,' Ralph said after a moment of hesitation. He almost forgot that he had never told his mother that he went to London. He had lied and told her that he was going out somewhere with the twins and his other friends.

'That's good to hear.' She leaned down and kissed him gently on his forehead. 'I am going out for a bit, dear. I'm going to go visit your Aunt Liv.'

'Mm-hm,' Ralph mumbled indifferently, vaguely recalling his mother mentioning earlier that week that his Aunt Liv was ill.

'If you get hungry, there is some food for you in the fridge.'

'Yeah.'

'And if you feel like going out later, you are free to do so . . . But leave a note for me so that I know where you are, just in case I get home before you do.' She smiled.

'Right.'

'Oh, and I won't be back until late tonight,' she said, having suddenly remembered. 'There is a list of numbers where you can reach me in case of an emergency—they're on the kitchen table. Your father's business numbers are in the usual place,' she added.

'Okay. Thanks, mum.'

She patted his arm affectionately. Then, before she left, she opened his bedroom window, muttering something about letting some fresh air circulate around the room.

'Have a good time,' Ralph called out to her as she departed, '. . . wherever you're going,' he finished stupidly as the door closed.

"Where _does _Aunt Liv live, anyway?" he wondered. "Meh, not that it matters, so long as Mum is gone."

At least he was going to be alone that day. His mother was going to be at Aunt Liv's all day and his father was away on another business trip of his, in North America or Asia or something (it was so difficult to remember these days). It was a blessing, really. Ralph didn't think that he would be able to force himself to appear as if nothing was wrong for the entire day, especially to his parents. While his father may not notice, his mother would definitely see that something was amiss. Call it motherly instincts.

'Call it annoying,' Ralph muttered before attempting to find sleep once more.

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_Ding dong._

"What now?" Ralph wondered irritably, prying his eyes open. Glancing at his clock, he realized that he had only been asleep for a couple of hours.

_Ding dong._

The doorbell had rung again.

'Go away,' he mumbled, knowing full well that whoever it was wouldn't be able to hear him.

A pause, then . . .

_Ding dong._

"This guy never gives up!"

Ralph flatly _refused _to give up, however, and stayed in bed.

_Ding dong._

"This is getting so fucking annoying."

_Ding dong._

Without even realizing what he was doing, Ralph reached his hand over the side of the bed. Encountering his sneaker, he picked it up and threw it at the window, hoping to bang it loud enough to scare away the damn doorbell-ringer.

Only . . . he forgot that it was open.

The shoe flew straight out the open window and landed somewhere outside. A moment later, a resounding curse was heard.

Ralph chuckled.

"Got him. It was a mistake, but I got him. I may as well make the most out of my victory."

And he did.

Closing his eyes, he tried to get back to sleep.

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Two stories below, Jack rubbed at his aching head.

"What the hell? Had that been a shoe?" He picked up the offending item. "Yep."

Emotionally hurt that Ralph had deliberately thrown a shoe at him, Jack cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, 'RALPH! RALPH MACPHERSON!'

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Ralph froze, having head his name being called. Fully alert now, he jumped out of bed and looked out the window.

'Jack!' he exclaimed in disbelief, seeing the teen standing there with a ratty jacket tied around his waist. He rubbed at his eyes to clear his vision; _surely _he had been mistaken.

But he wasn't. Jack Merridew was standing below his bedroom window. Even from afar, he noticed that the other teen's eyes had softened with Ralph's emergence.

'Please, Ralph,' Jack called out. 'Please, come down. We need to talk.'

"Yes, Jack Merridew, we _do _need to talk," Ralph thought darkly, "but our conversation will be on _my _terms."

After hastily pulling on a pair of faded blue jeans over his boxers, Ralph made his way downstairs to open the door . . . where Jack was waiting.

'Ralph—' Jack began, but he was immediately cut off by a sound punch to his jaw. He stumbled in response, only barely managing to stay standing on the front steps.

'Go home, Jack,' Ralph said coldly, unconsciously wiping his hand on his old, white t-shirt. 'You don't belong here.'

Jack's eyes filled with tears, but Ralph did not know if it was from his punch or from his words.

'Ralph,' Jack said again.

'Don't say a word, Jack,' Ralph warned.

'But I—'

'Nothing you can say will change anything,' the teen cut in. 'None of it would matter! You'd only leave me again,' he said brokenly. 'I don't want to be your _whore _anymore, Jack! I don't just want to be someone who you can return to whenever your other relationships fall apart!'

'But there never _was _anyone else!' Jack interjected.

'Wasn't there?' Ralph challenged, his gaze sharpening. 'Don't lie to me, Jack. I'm not an idiot. I _saw _you last night! You and your fucking lover!' His hands were tightly closed fists at his sides (but he restrained himself from striking Jack again). His lips unwillingly pursed together as he desperately tried not to cry; he didn't want to cry, not in front of Jack. It would show the other teen just how much he still cared for him. 'What happened?' Ralph taunted. 'Did you get into a fight? Did you have a _lover's _quarrel?'

'Nothing happened!' Jack defended himself.

'Oh, really? Then why are you here if not to take me back? If not to screw around with my heart until someone else's interests you again?'

'You mean more than that to me!' Jack almost screamed. 'You mean more to me and you know it!'

'Do I?'

Jack sighed angrily.

'Look, I _did _come here to take you back, but only a small part of it has to do with Cristóbal.'

'Cristóbal?' Ralph repeated. 'Is _that _the name of your new toy?'

'He made me realize,' Jack continued, apparently ignoring Ralph's taunts, 'that no one can compare to _you_!' He took a step closer to the latter. 'I should never have let you go, Ralph, I admit that. But I cannot change what happened! I did it for you,' his voice softened and he reached up to cup the other teen's face. 'All of it was for you, Ralph. For us. I love you, Ralph.'

And captured Ralph's lips in a sweet kiss.

_Wham!_

Ralph punched his companion again and this time, Jack stumbled down the steps entirely, landing in a heap on the narrow walkway.

'Fine. Whatever. I'm just sorry that it took something like this for you to realize it!' he said angrily, gritting his teeth to keep back his tears. 'Why is it that you had to be with someone else before you realized it! Why the _fuck _did it have to take _this_!' The teen kicked fiercely at the doorframe to help vent his frustration, which, luckily, it did not splinter under the force of his foot. 'Why the fucking, bloody hell did I have to fall in love with someone like you, someone with such a cold heart?'

Jack blanched noticeably but he refused to give up.

'You love me, Ralph, and I love you,' he said. 'That's all we have to know! That's all we _need_ to know to get back together!'

'You think that we're going to get back together after all this?' Ralph mocked. 'We can't, you fool. It isn't that simple! You broke up with me and I _still_ waited for you. Against my better judgment, I hoped that you would call me up one day and we would be back together like that!' He snapped his fingers to emphasize his point.

Jack flinched at the sound.

'But . . . you didn't,' Ralph said. 'Yet, I continued to wait.' Despite his efforts, the tears streamed down his cheeks. 'I waited and waited . . . I waited for you, _Merridew_, and now I'm tired of waiting.'

'But—' Jack started, but the other teen interrupted.

'No "buts", Jack. Those are the facts.' Then Ralph touched his lips, just as he did after having kissed the other during the masque. 'When we kiss, Jack Merridew,' he whispered, 'I don't want to have to wonder if it's me you see . . . or _him_.' His eyes hardened.

'Ralph . . .' But Jack trailed off there, realizing that the other wasn't finished yet.

'You know,' Ralph said with a bitter smile, looking at the ground, 'I once told Samneric that even if you didn't love me back, it would be enough for me to just give you my love.' Then he looked Jack in the eye. 'But it's not. I don't want to bear my heart to such pain again, Jack, not when I have no way of knowing if you'll close the door on me—on us—again.' He sighed sadly. 'No, this time, I'm going to be the one to close the door on you.'

And that's just what he did.

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Shocked, Jack looked at the closed door with wide eyes . . . and he wept.

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Inside the house, Ralph was leaning against the door and battling with his own tears. It was over. It was officially over. His heart had never felt so broken. He needed someone to help him get rid of his pain, if only for a while.

And he knew just the person.

Picking up the phone, he dialed the twins' telephone number.

_Ring . . ._

_Ring . . ._

_Ring . . ._

After the third ring, someone finally picked up.

'Hello?'

'Hi . . . Sam?' Ralph inquired.

'No, Ralph, this is Eric.'

'Oh, sorry.'

'Don't worry about it,' the twins said. 'What's up?'

'Can you give me Jacques' phone number?'

'Yeah. Just a sec.'

Ralph heard some random shuffling of papers and a loud bang that sounded as if the receiver had dropped. Then Eric finally picked up the phone once more.

'Okay here it is . . .' And he recited the number.

'Thanks, Eric,' Ralph said.

'No problem.' There was a slight giggle. 'By the way, Ralph, I really _am _Sam. I am Sam and I like green eggs and ham (1).'

And he hung up.

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So, that was that.

Ralph put down the phone, after having made his second call of the day. He had called Jacques to see if the other teen was available that night. He knew that it wasn't very much notice and that Jacques probably already had plans for the Saturday night, but it was worth a try.

Then Jacques had surprised him by saying that he had nothing planned and that he would love to go out with Ralph. Either that or he had decided to cancel his other plans for Ralph. The latter thought held both a flattering and rather frightening appeal to the teen.

Anyway, the pair decided to catch a movie that night for 8 o'clock. Meaning that Ralph had a lot of time to kill before then.

'Homework it is then,' he decided blandly.

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Jack decided to wait on Ralph's step. He didn't come all this way just to lose the other teen before he even had him! Unfortunately, it had been a couple of hours since his encounter with Ralph and Jack was now bored out of his fucking mind! He hadn't brought anything to do, not even his stupid homework.

What he _did _have with him was a scrap sheet of paper and a broken pencil, which he had found in his jacket pocket. Having an idea, he scrawled down Ralph's name vertically on the page. Then he began to make an acrostic poem out of it.

'"R",' he muttered to himself. '"Romantic". "A".' He thought about this for a moment. '"Awesome".' The teen smiled. '"L".' He bit his lip to keep away the pain as he wrote down "loving".

And so he continued in that fashion. Some of the words he wrote were serious, while others were not.

This was his finished product:

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Romantic

Awesome

Loving

Pleasing

Hysterical

Mocking

Athletic

Clever

Prince

Handsome

Emotional

Remarkable

Stubborn

Original

Noble

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Jack looked over his list once more.

'"M" . . . "Mine".' He crossed out "mocking" and replaced it with the new word. Then he folded the paper and slipped it into Ralph's mail slot.

'I'm sorry, Ralph,' he murmured. 'You have no idea how sorry I am for what I did . . . but do we _both _have to suffer for it?'

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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: "Green Eggs and Ham", Dr. Seuss (Cool kids book!)


	20. You're Just What I Need

_Author's Note: I wasn't initially going to "let" Ralph go out with anyone else, because I was thinking of making him the ever-faithful-even-though-we-broke-up type. In the end, however, changed my mind. LoL. Hope you liked it!_

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**(20) You're Just What I Need**

**". . . But if I know you, I know what you'll do . . ." — song from "Sleeping Beauty"**

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It was almost 8 o'clock now.

Ralph had fallen asleep watching television and, having been so tired from his lack of sleep the night before, he had slept well through the day . . . and part of the night. This little catnap—or rather, _big _catnap—of his was definitely not good. If he didn't hurry, he would be late meeting Jacques.

After hastily scrawling down a note for his mother, saying that he would be at the movies with a friend, he grabbed his house keys off of its hook on the wall and hurried out the door . . . only to unceremoniously kick Jack in the stomach.

'Oof!' Jack grunted, clutching at his stomach.

'What are you doing?' Ralph asked, closing and locking the door behind him.

'Taking a nap,' Jack replied tiredly, sitting up. 'What does it look like I'm doing?'

'Nothing.' Ralph rolled his eyes. 'Whatever. I don't care.'

'You're the one who asked,' Jack reminded him.

The other teen sighed.

'Whatever,' he said again. 'Now if you'll excuse me, there's somewhere that I have to be.' He made an attempt to step over Jack's legs, which were blocking the steps, but the other teen lifted a limb up to stop him.

'Where?' Jack asked.

'None of your business,' Ralph said, attempting to push the leg out of the way.

'Where?' Jack repeated, refusing to move until his question was answered satisfactorily.

Ralph sighed again.

'To the movies,' he finally responded.

'With who?' Jack continued his interrogation.

'With a friend,' Ralph said in exasperation. He was going to be late, he knew it.

'What's his name?'

'Jacques.'

'And how close are you with this "friend" of yours?'

'Close enough,' the teen said impatiently. 'Now get out of my way, Jack! I'm going to be late!' He shoved Jack's leg out of the way and made his way down the steps.

'Don't,' Jack said, when Ralph had reached the ground.

'Don't what?'

'Don't go to him tonight.'

'You're in no position to tell me what to do, Merridew!' Ralph snapped, shaking his keys about as he gestured.

'_Please_, don't go to him tonight,' Jack begged, abruptly changing tactics.

'And why not?' Ralph challenged.

'Because . . . because he doesn't appreciate you.'

'And you do? Ha!' He laughed darkly. 'That's a laugh. Good one, Merridew.' Then he became serious once more.

'All I'm saying is that you deserve someone better.'

'Oh, really? Someone like you then, I presume. Well, Jack, newsflash! I do _not _want to be with someone like you. I do _not _want to be with someone who will just abandon me after _promising _that he'd wait!' He glared at the other teen. 'You remember that, don't you?'

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_'Do you promise to always treat me with the respect I deserve?'_

_'Yes.'_

_'Will you love and support me in all aspects of my life?'_

_'Yes.'_

_'Will you wait for me to return?'_

_'Always.'_

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Jack paled slightly at the memory. It was true—it was all true! He _had_ promised and had _broken_ that same promise. What a bloody bastard he was.

'You promised, Jack,' Ralph whispered, as if wanting to emphasize Jack's thoughts. 'You promised . . . Then you broke up with me because the _distance _was too much,' he spat. 'So why would you make such a promise like that if you don't keep it?'

'Ralph, listen to me . . .' Jack began.

'No, _you _listen!' Ralph cut in. 'I'm sick of it, of all of it. I do not want to be with someone who breaks his promises to me, Jack.'

'You don't want, you don't want,' Jack mocked him, using a childish voice. 'You're telling me about all the things that you _don't _want. How about the things that you _do_ want? What's the difference between this Jacques dude and me?'

Ralph smiled sadly.

'He is not Jack Merridew.' He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 'You asked what I want, Jack? What I want is someone who would not just let me go if I run away.' His voice cracked with emotion. 'What I want is someone who would be right there, chasing after me.'

"_I'm _that someone, Ralph," Jack said mentally, fingering the gold ring in his pocket. "Why can't you see that?"

Of course, Ralph was oblivious to Jack's thoughts, and the latter was too cowardly to voice them just yet. It seemed too soon to do so.

'I wasn't ready to lose you, Jack, but when I saw you with Cristóbal, I realized that it didn't matter if I _was _ready or not. I had already lost you. You're not the same Jack Merridew that I once knew, and no matter how hard I try to hold on to the memories that I have of you, that's all they are—memories.'

Jack stood up on the same step as Ralph so as to be on the same level as him and to look him straight in the eye.

'I can't stop change from happening; I especially can't stop _you _from changing either. So, how am I to know if one day, you will leave me again? If one day, you will just stop loving me?'

'Stop thinking like that!' Jack interjected, almost violently grabbing Ralph's shoulders. 'Just stop! Stop thinking that I'll change in the way that you say I will. You're right, Ralph, I _will _change; I'm not stupid enough to believe that I won't. But I will never, _ever _stop loving you! I am alwaysgoing to love you, no matter what. I'll always remain Jack, _your _Jack. I have nothing to give you but myself. I just hope that that's enough for your because I . . . I . . . I just can't live without you.' And he embraced the other teen, obscurely slipping the ring into Ralph's pocket.

But the latter did not respond. While he allowed Jack to wrap his arms around him, he did not return the action.

'You have lasted so far,' the former said unsympathetically, 'so what difference will the rest of your life make?'

'The rest of my—' Jack stopped himself, not wanting to repeat such a dreadful sentence aloud. Shaking his head, he instead said, 'Life is too short to make the same mistake twice. I am _not _going to lose you again, Ralph.'

'Life may be short, but it's the longest thing that you'll ever do,' Ralph replied almost mechanically. 'I'm sorry, Jack.'

Jack was angry now. _Why _was Ralph not allowing Jack to love him once more?

'That's a neat trick,' the former said sarcastically, his temper getting the better of him. 'For a minute there, you had me convinced that you had regrets.'

'Oh? You thought that was a neat trick? Then allow me to show you another one—now you see me . . .' Ralph began to walk away. 'Now you don't.' Then he disappeared around the street corner.

He was gone.

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'So what did you think?' Jacques asked Ralph a few hours later. They had just finished the movie and decided to call it an early night . . . Really, _Ralph _had been the one to decide that.

'It wasn't bad,' the latter said with a shrug.

In all honesty, he had difficulty focusing on the film. It was about a soldier in the army or something. That was all that Ralph could recall, for somewhere during the beginning of it, Jacques had placed his hand gently atop Ralph's on the armrest. Since then, the latter had trouble paying attention to anything but that warm hand on top of his.

But the part that scared him the most was not Jacques' frankness; it was the fact that he did not pull away. So, he had called it an early night, feigning tiredness.

'I'll walk you home,' Jacques said.

'Thanks, Jacques, but that won't be necessary,' Ralph replied.

"Nor desired. I don't really know why he would be," he thought, "but I have a very strong feeling that Jack is still waiting there."

'How about halfway then?'

'Persistent, aren't you?' Ralph teased.

'No, just gallant,' Jacques said with a grin.

Ralph grinned as well.

'Okay, halfway it is then.'

Ralph led the way out of the movie theatre and towards his house.

'Do you want to go through the park?' he asked his companion, indicating the greenery with a slight tilt of his head.

'_Oui_,' Jacques replied. 'Sounds good.'

It was slightly off-course to walk through the park, but neither teen cared. To them, being amongst such natural beauty was much better than the congestion of the roads.

'It looks like it rained,' Jacques stated, mentally noting the how wet and reflective everything was.

The two walked on in companionable silence for a while, taking in the fresh scenery and allowing themselves to relax with deep, calming breaths.

'It's so beautiful out here,' Ralph murmured. He looked up at the towering trees, which were illuminated slightly by the lamps that bordered the pathway.

'It is,' Jacques agreed. 'Then again, the city can be beautiful as well.'

'Oh?'

'_Oui_. The lights are like the stars of the city.'

'How poetic,' Ralph sighed.

'_Non_, I'm not poetic,' Jacques said shyly. 'I merely state the facts.'

Ralph smiled.

'I have the tendency to get you all wrong then, eh?' he joked. 'So . . . what other "facts" can you tell me?'

Jacques thought about this for a moment. Then he responded with, 'The cars that crowd the roads are like ants going about their business.'

Ralph laughed.

'Okay, it wasn't really as poetic as the last one, but I buy it,' he said.

'Then how about this . . . The airplanes in the sky are like paper cranes blowing freely in the wind.'

'Better,' Ralph complimented thoughtfully.

'The stars in the sky are the inspiration for children who cannot help but dream.'

'You're getting there.'

'The lights are the stars of the city.'

'You already said that one.'

'Oh, oops . . . Then . . . Your eyes look like they have been blessed with the lovely blue lights of a thousand fairies,' Jacques said seriously.

'My eyes,' Ralph said, 'are brown.'

'Your eyes,' Jacques said, 'are beautiful.'

A silence passed between them. For one, it was uncomfortable. For the other, it was lovely. They stared at each other, unblinking. It was Ralph who looked away first. He had suddenly realized that they arrived at the borders of the park, reaching the residential area. Thus, his house was only another block away from here.

'That was a bit more than halfway,' he said playfully, trying to ease the sudden tension that he felt between them.

'Ralph,' Jacques said.

But Ralph did not acknowledge him.

'Wow. I hadn't noticed, but it's gotten cold quite suddenly, hasn't it, Jacques?' As if to emphasize his remark, hunched his shoulders and slipped his hands into his pockets.

"What the—?"

In one hand, he felt the unmistakable shape of a ring . . . and he would wager everything he owned (and then some) that it was a familiar gold ring that he had seen many times before.

"Jack . . ."

'Ralph,' Jacques said again, more insistently this time.

Ralph looked at him, knowing that the other wished to say something.

'I . . .' The latter trailed off, as if deciding at the last moment not to say what it was that he wanted to say. 'Goodnight, Ralph,' he said.

Ralph expected the next part, and yet he _didn't_ expect it at the same time.

Jacques placed a hand on the back of the teen's neck and gently pulled him in for a kiss.

Ralph didn't respond, _couldn't _respond.

It wasn't until Jacques pulled away that he realized he was crying.

'Ralph? Oh, I'm sorry!' And he pulled Ralph into his warm embrace. It was not a form of seduction; it was merely a hug . . . and his way of apologizing. 'I'm sorry!' Jacques said again. 'I'm sorry!'

'It's okay, Jacques,' Ralph reassured the apparently hysterical teen. 'I brought it upon myself.' He sighed. 'I have to tell you the real reason that I asked you out tonight.'

'No, I know the reason why you are acting like this,' Jacques said, putting his hand up to stop Ralph's words before they even started. 'Samneric told me about your ex-boyfriend back in London.'

'The twins did?' Ralph squeaked, although he felt slightly relieved that Jacques had said "back in London", meaning that he had no idea of Jack's current vacation spot in front of the Macphersons' house.

'_Oui_. I hope that you don't feel as if they betrayed your trust.'

Normally, he would have. At that moment, however, he felt anything but. It was . . . liberating not to have to tell Jacques himself.

'I'm sorry,' he muttered instead. 'I didn't want it to have to be this way. It's just . . . I gave my heart away a long time ago, Jacques, my whole heart, and I never really got it back. Now I don't really know what to say except that I'm sorry (1). I can't be with you.'

Jacques smiled understandingly.

'Don't worry about it,' he said, giving Ralph a friendly peck on the cheek. 'I'm okay. From the beginning, I've been attracted to you, Ralph, but I didn't really feel any "spark" between us either,' he admitted, bowing his head in shame.

'Then why did you come tonight?' Ralph asked, somewhat incredulous.

'I had to make sure,' Jacques said with a sheepish grin. 'You're a wonderful person, Ralph, but not for me.' Now it was his turn to sigh. 'Your Jack fellow sounds like a terrific person. You two seem made for each other. I hope that I find someone like that one day, someone who loves me so much.' Flashing Ralph one last smile, he left.

And Ralph made his way home.

Yes, he always knew that he loved Jack . . .

. . . But he was still too angry and too stubborn to forgive him just yet.

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_Do you feel the same _

_Am I only dreaming _

_Or is this burning_

_An eternal flame_

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'Ralph,' Jack said, once he saw the other teen coming up the walkway. 'You're home.'

'You're not,' Ralph muttered bitterly; he reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold ring. 'Here.'

'What?'

'Here,' Ralph said again, trying to push the ring into Jack's hand. 'Take it. It's yours, anyway.'

'No,' Jack refused. He took the other's hand between his own and pressed their hands against Ralph's chest. 'It was a gift. Keep it (2).'

Rolling his eyes, Ralph returned the ring to his pocket.

'You stayed out in the rain,' he pointed out, glancing at Jack's wet hair and clothes.

'You noticed,' Jack stated.

'Why didn't you get out of the rain?'

'There was nowhere else I could go unless I left your house,' Jack reminded him.

'So you just stayed here?'

'Yes.'

'I see. So you have no intention of leaving?'

'Not unless you come with me.'

'I see,' Ralph said again, pursing his lips. He pulled out his keys and opened the door.

'What are you doing?' Jack asked.

'Going into my house. What does it look like I'm doing?' Ralph asked in a mockery of Jack's response hours before.

'Ralph, please, can we talk?'

'Suuure . . .' he said, intentionally dragging the word out long enough for his companion to realize that there was a catch. '. . . On the phone. You can call me when you get home.' Ralph pulled the door opened and stepped into the house.

'What?' Jack questioned, watching the other teen retrieve the phone from a nearby table.

'I'm calling you a cab to bring you back to the train station. You've been here for long enough.'

'No!' Jack said, pressing the button down and returning the line to its state of stillness. 'You can't do that.'

Ralph attempted to push Jack's hand out of the way, but the latter persisted.

'No! Jack repeated. 'Not until after we talk.'

Ralph gritted his teeth. After having composed himself for so long, seeing Jack just made him . . . break. He slammed the phone onto its hold and—

'No! No! No! It's always "_no_" with you! "_No, _we can't be together". "_No, _there is not anyone else in my life". "_No_, I still love you",' Ralph ranted, beating Jack's chest with the soft sides of the fists. 'How the _fucking_ hell am I supposed to know what's true and what's not, Merridew! Answer me that! How can I tell the bloody difference between your truths and lies when all you say to me is "NO"!' And the troubled teen collapsed onto the ground, still in hysterics. 'It's finally _my _turn to say "no", Jack!'

The latter attempted to place an arm around Ralph's shoulders to comfort him, but it was violently brushed off.

'NO! Don't you fucking dare touch me! I HATE YOU! YOU CAN GO ROT IN HELL!'

With that said, Ralph bolted upstairs.

Jack watched him go, flinching when he heard the teen's bedroom door slam shut. The unmistakable click of the lock followed a second later.

Ralph had not only locked Jack out of his room, but it appeared as if he had locked him out of his heart as well . . . for good.

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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: This is from the "Sweet Home Alabama" movie.

(2) Mini-Disclaimer: Does anyone recognize this? It's from the first "Lord of the Rings" movie. Hurray!


	21. Breaking Point

_Author's Note: And the quote below is finally complete! The entire chorus of the song is included in this chapter! Oh, and by the way, this chapter is slightly lemony. You have been warned._

**(21) Breaking Point**

**"I know you; I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you; the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. Yes, I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream." —song from "Sleeping Beauty"**

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Screaming incomprehensibly, Ralph locked his door and threw himself onto his bed, finally crying the tears that had been forced back for so long.

Why was Jack still here? Why did he insist on getting back together with Ralph? Jack was the one who broke up with him, and Ralph's heart had splintered into a thousand pieces as a result. The teen knew that he would not be able to deal with it if Jack ever broke up with him again.

He would shatter entirely.

_Knock._

'Ralph?' Jack inquired softly from behind the door.

'Go the fuck away, Jack!' Ralph snapped. 'Go home.'

There was a pause, and then, 'I _am _home. My home is where my heart is, and _you _are my heart, Ralph. You always have been. I wasn't lying when I said that there was never anyone else.'

'Bullshit,' Ralph retorted, making his way to his stereo system. Once there, he popped in a selected CD and adjusted the settings slightly.

'Ralph—' Jack began, but whatever else he had to say was suddenly cut off by the music that was suddenly blasting from the speakers.

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_I hate everything about you_

_Why do I love you_

_I hate everything about you_

_Why do I love you (1)_

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On the other side of the door, Jack winced when he heard that song. It appeared as if Ralph was making his feelings for Jack known in another way—through music. It was simple . . . yet effective, unfortunately.

'RALPH!' Jack yelled, pounding on the door with his fist. 'RALPH! OPEN THE DOOR!'

The only response that he received was an increase in volume.

'DAMN IT, RALPH! OPEN THE DOOR!' Jack felt blood rush to his face in waves of frustration. 'OPEN THE DOOR, RALPH! RALPH!' Before he knew it, his temper got the better of him. 'RALPH! YOU BLOODY BASTARD! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!' he screamed at the top of his lungs, forcefully kicking the door.

Regardless of his actions, however, there was still no reply.

"Fine," Jack thought, swallowing to ease his now-sore throat. "If that's the way you're going to be . . ."

And he went downstairs.

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_Baby, I can't get over you__All I want is to be with you__Baby, I can't let go of you__Can't we try just one more time__Just one more time (2)_

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Ralph had been startled when he saw the door shaking on its hinges. He was unaware of whether it was from the vibrations caused by his speakers or if Jack was abusing the door with his fists.

Whatever. It didn't matter to him.

Nor did Jack's words. Ralph knew that the other teen was doubtlessly trying to talk to him, but he couldn't hear a word of it; the music was drowning him out. It was better like that. That way, Ralph would be able to pretend that it was not Jack Merridew behind his door, not the one whom he loved.

However, Ralph really had no idea if Jack was still standing behind the door. (For all he knew, the other teen could be on top of his parents' bed, dancing around in his underwear and singing along with the music.) He couldn't hear anything but "_I hate everything about you_" pounding into his head; as well, the light in the corridor was not strong enough for him to see Jack's shadow, having departed or not.

"Just a bit longer," he decided. Glancing at his thumping stereo system, he lay back on his bed. "Surely my attitude—as well as the noise—will discourage him and he'll _finally _go home."

But Jack did not go home.

Ralph started and hastily sat up when he saw the doorknob rattling and turning slightly. Not a moment later, Jack opened the door and stepped into the teen's room, holding a paperclip in his hand. Without saying a word (not that it would have mattered, anyway, because of the deafening music), he strolled over to the other teen's stereo and shut it off.

'It's a good thing that your mum keeps paperclips in the kitchen,' Jack said, 'although I don't really know why.'

'Hasn't anyone taught you that you're supposed to knock before you enter someone's room,' he said, turning away so that Jack would not see his tear-streaked face.

But he did. He _did _see it.'

'Ralph . . . That song . . . I know that you don't hate me . . . After all that we've been through, you can't hate me.'

Ralph laughed bitterly.

'You once tried to kill me, Jack Merridew.'

'I thought we'd gone over that already,' the other teen reminded him. 'Yes, I _did_ try to kill you—once. But the circumstances were different then.'

'Oh? "Different"? How so?'

'Well, that was before I learned to _love _you. Ralph, I—'

'Why have you come here?' Ralph interrupted him, not knowing whether or not he wanted to know what the rest of Jack's sentence was.

'I have never been one to give up easily, so I don't intend to start now. Besides,' Jack said, smiling softly, 'you ran away.'

'So?' Ralph asked coldly. 'Am I not allowed to do that? Are you going to say "no" to me again?'

'That's a tough one to answer,' the other teen said playfully, pretending to think it over. 'If I say "no", then I'm confirming your accusation. But if I say "yes", then I'm still confirming your accusation. You've got me in quite a fix.'

Ralph did not smile.

'Okay, so humour isn't working right now,' Jack said, scratching the back of his head. 'But, hey, getting back on track, the point is that you ran away.'

'So?' the other teen repeated.

So . . . I'm the one who wanted to run after you.' Jack's voice lowered a notch. 'I love you too much not to.'

'Don't say that,' Ralph said quietly, carefully avoiding his gaze.

'Why not?'

'Just . . . don't fucking say that, okay?' Ralph snapped, getting to his feet. 'Why do you have to say things like that? What do you want from me, Jack?'

Jack stared at him, his eyes swirling with unidentifiable emotions.

'Everything, Ralph. I want all of you,' he said seriously. 'Nothing more. Nothing less.'

'But maybe I don't want to give myself to you!' Ralph bit back.

'Or maybe you just don't know how you feel,' Jack suggested.

_Slap._

The power behind the blow was such that Jack staggered; however, it was unknown to either teen if it was actual the force or the shock that made him do so.

'Say that again,' Ralph dared.

Jack defiantly straightened.

'You don't know how you feel.'

His companion abruptly exploded.

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'YOU FUCKING WHORE!' Ralph screamed, and Jack found himself the target of a ruthless right hook. 'WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO TALK TO ME ABOUT FEELINGS! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU PLAYING AT!'

'Ralph,' Jack said quietly, contradicting the other's harsh tone. He did not even bother to nurse his wound, for he was so involved in speaking with the brunet that he hardly acknowledged the burning sensation in his face. 'How can you say that?'

Ralph didn't know how, but the other teen had somehow made _him_ the guilt-ridden victim now.

'You're the one who taught me how to feel this way,' the latter continued. 'Do you know what I once told Lee? That I need you more than you need me, because you're the one who saved me, Ralph. You're the one who showed me why life is worth living. You showed me that, Ralph, and I can never repay you for that.' Then he sighed. 'The least I can do is make you happy . . . You said that you hate me, but I don't think that it's true.'

'Oh, you don't?' Ralph challenged.

'No, I don't,' Jack confirmed. 'You locked me out of your house and threatened to send me home, and you also insulted me and struck me and—'

'Get on with it,' the other teen snapped impatiently.

'. . . and then . . . If I just look into your eyes and I know,' Jack said, 'that you don't hate me.'

The corner of Ralph's mouth twitched slightly.

'Ralph, I know that I've done terrible things, that I've been the biggest of assholes. And . . . I'm not even going to bother convincing you that I deserve a second chance, because you already gave me that.' Jack looked at the ground, unable to face his companion any longer for his shame. 'I tried to . . . to kill you, but you forgave me. And you loved me.'

Ralph continued to stare at him.

'Because of you, I was able to know what being in love feels like,' Jack said. 'I was able to realize that my life was valuable, that it shouldn't be wasted by living out my days as a whore, no matter how difficult things became.' He paused for a moment; then, 'I felt so happy to have you in my life. Oftentimes, I had hated myself for the person that I had become—I was so shameless! But . . . whenever you hug me, or kiss me, or say that you love me, I experience those joyous feelings once more and I . . . I can forgive myself a little (3).' Then the teen looked up. 'No one else can make me feel that way, so all I'm asking is for you to let me love you and become that sort of person in your life, too.'

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_You should let me love you_

_Let me be the one to_

_Give you everything you want and need_

_Baby, good love and protection_

_Make me your selection_

_Show you the way love's supposed to be_

_Baby, you should let me love you_

_Love you_

_Love you _(4)

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Ralph laughed softly, his voice cracking with emotion.

'You really thought that I'd believe that shit, Jack Merridew?' he asked brokenly, and a tear slid down his cheek. 'How many fucking times do I have to forgive you before I all of my pride is lost? Regardless of what you say about _not _asking me for a second chance, that's _exactly _what you're doing!'

Jack couldn't believe it. He had just poured his heart out to the other teen . . . only to be repaid with such a callous verbal blow.

'You don't mean that,' he said resolutely. 'Ralph, don't you see? We're made for each other!'

'Get out of my house!'

'I love you, Ralph. Does that mean nothing to you?'

'Not anymore. Get out,' he said calmly.

'You're everything to me! I'll _die _without you!'

'Stop being a pussy. Get out.'

'You're my reason for living! Don't take away what we have!'

'_You're _the one who took it away. Get out, Merridew.'

'I thought you said that you loved me. Was that all a lie then?'

'_YOU _ARE THE FUCKING LIAR HERE, MERRIDEW! NOT ME! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!'

'No.'

'GET OUT, MERRIDEW!'

'NO!'

'I SAID, "GET OUT!"'

And Jack found himself the victim of yet another blow, this one being strong enough to knock him to the ground; his head hit the wall with a _thud_.

'YOU FUCKING JACKASS!' Ralph screamed. He grabbed the other's shoulders and violently began to shake them as he cried out in hysterics. 'YOU BLOODY IDIOT! WHY THE FUCK CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!'

'BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!'

Then Ralph's emotions took a sudden turn and he collapsed onto Jack's chest, weeping uncontrollably.

Realizing that he was finally calming down, Jack placed a comforting arm around the troubled teen.

'Why, Jack?' Ralph demanded softly.

'Why what?' the other asked patiently.

'_Why _can't I hate you?' Ralph buried his head into the crook of Jack's neck and held onto the latter tightly. 'Why can I _never _hate you?'

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_And I need you_

_And I miss you_

_And now I wonder…_

_If I could fall_

_Into the sky_

_Do you think time_

_Would pass me by_

_'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles_

_If I could just see you_

_Tonight (5)_

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'_Why_!'

'I don't know,' Jack replied.

"Maybe, it's because," Ralph's mind reasoned, "deep inside, hating him is the last thing that you'd ever want to do. You love him, but you were hurt that it took him so long to realize how much he loved you in return. So, you tried to hate him . . . but you couldn't."

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_I'm trying to forget that_

_I'm addicted to you_

_But I want it and I need it_

_I'm addicted to you _

_Now it's over _

_I can't forget what you said _

_And I never want to do this again _

_Heartbreaker _(6)

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The pair held each other tightly, never wanting to let go.

'I love you, Jack,' the teen murmured tearfully, knowing how much those words were taxing him of his last defenses against the other. 'I love you _so _much. Don't ever let me go again.'

'Never,' Jack replied just as tearfully. 'Never, Ralph. _Never _again. I'm nothing without you. I would just be Jack Meridew with only one "r".'

Ralph had no idea what he was talking about, but he didn't want to destroy the moment by asking, so he just buried his head in the crook of his renewed-lover's neck and kissed it gently.

'It _was _you yesterday, wasn't it?'

'Yes,' Ralph clarified. 'I don't like being away from you.'

'Neither do I—I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner,' Jack said. 'It's just that Lee . . .' He shook his head. 'Never mind.'

'Lee what?' Ralph asked, pulling his head away to look at the other's eyes; he sensed a crack in the moment that they were sharing.

'Lee . . . He talked to Mr. B, you know, the Brown Cow man, and they decided that I should . . . well, er . . . break up with you so that we can sort out our feelings for each other.'

'_WHAT_!' Ralph exclaimed, and the moment broke entirely.

'I never wanted to break up with you,' Jack said. 'Losing you would . . . shatter me. Even the _thought _of losing you was more painful than the blows you landed on me just now.'

'Sorry about that,' Ralph mumbled sheepishly, but the other teen did not hear him.

'The risk was so big for that one, measly ticket, but I really wanted to see you.'

'You mean, you didn't pay for your ticket yourself?'

'No. Lee did,' Jack explained sheepishly.

'Why, Jack? Tell me why,' Ralph said. 'I don't want there to be anymore lies between us.'

'Well . . . uh . . . my mum and I . . . have been having a bit of trouble lately . . . er, you know . . . financially.'

'What?' Ralph asked quietly. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I didn't want your charity,' Jack said. 'Nor your pity.'

'How about my love?' the brunet sneered. 'How long will you want that?'

Jack blinked away the remaining tears in his eyes.

'I never want to lose that.' He leaned in closer and leaned his forehead against Ralph's, their lips remaining but a whisper apart. 'And I never want you to think that again. I love you so much, Ralph, so much.'

And they finally kissed, merging two halves of a whole once more.

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_This is it_

_Oh, I finally found someone_

_Someone to share my life_

_I finally found the one_

_To be with every night_

_'Cause whatever I do_

_It's just got to be you_

_My life has just begun_

_I finally found someone _(7)

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'Show me,' Ralph muttered against his lover's lips, unconsciously tightening his hold. 'Show me how much you love me, Jack. Please.'

'But . . . your parents . . .' Jack said uncomfortably.

'Are out,' Ralph finished for him.

Jack smiled.

'Okay.'

The two teens heaved themselves off of the ground and made their way to the bed, but only after having closed and windows and doors, just in case.

'Are you sure that you're ready for this?' Jack asked, slowly approaching his lover.

'I've never wanted anything more,' Ralph replied; he sat down on the bed.

There was no seduction in his position, but Jack found it rather arousing nonetheless. There was Ralph—the one he loved—sitting there on a bed, waiting for him, waiting for Jack to make love to him. Jack took Ralph's face in both his hands and kissed him, putting all of his heart into the kiss.

Ralph moaned and allowed Jack to guide him down onto the bed. He laid back and unconsciously spread his legs, permitting Jack to settle comfortably between them. The latter slipped his hands beneath the bottom of Ralph's shirt and pulled off the offending item.

'I love you, Ralph,' he said, and he leaned down to kiss the other teen once more.

Ralph responded in turn by taking the hem of Jack's shirt and lifting it up and over the other's head. Then the two separated for a moment to divest Jack of his shirt before melding their lips together once more. Their bare skin rubbed together passionately; within their trousers, their arousals filled.

Then . . . the phone rang.

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_Author's Note: Yups, a lot of lyrics in this one! Hehe._

(1) Mini-Disclaimer: "I Hate Everything About You", Three Days Grace

(2) Mini-Disclaimer: "Can't Get Over You", 3 Deep

(3) This idea came from the anime "Fruits Basket",

(4) Mini-Disclaimer: "Let Me Love You", Mario

(5) Mini-Disclaimer: "A Thousand Miles", Vanessa Carlton

(6) Mini-Disclaimer: "Addicted", Simple Plan

(7) Mini-Disclaimer: "I Finally Found Someone", Barbara Streisand and Bryan Adams


	22. Merged Starlight

_Author's Note: I've noticed that the chapters have been kind of choppy lately. Sorry about that. I just wanted all the good stuff to come out because, honestly, I'm so sick of this story now. Oh well. It's almost done! Whoohoo!_

**(22) Merged Starlight**

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_Ring._

'Argh!' Ralph exclaimed in frustration.

'Don't get it,' Jack said, kissing a trail along his lover's neck.

Ralph sighed.

'I have to.' He picked up the receiver. 'Hello?'

'Hello, dear,' said the person at the other end of the line.

'Hi, _mum_,' emphasizing the word so as to alert the other teen. Unfortunately—for him, anyway—a mischievous grin darkened Jack's features and he continued his ministrations.

'How are things?' she asked.

'Good,' he sighed, leaning his head away to give Jack more access. 'Very good.'

'That's nice to hear,' she responded. 'I'm just calling to check up on you and, well . . .'

'Yes?' Ralph asked, trying to keep the squeak out of his voice as Jack licked the sensitive area just behind his ear.

'Would you be all right if I were to stay the night at Aunt Liv's?'

'Yes, but why?'

'Well, her illness had taken a slight turn for the worse,' she explained. 'I just wanted to make sure that she's okay.'

'Okay. You go ahead and stay with her, mum. No problem,' Ralph said, biting off a moan; Jack was blowing on the wet spot now, causing shivers to travel up his spine.

'You're sure that you'll be all right?' she asked in a typical motherly fashion. 'Your father won't be returning until tomorrow afternoon, so you'll be alone tonight.'

"No, I won't be," he thought, but was wise enough to refrain from saying so aloud. Such news was . . . well . . . not something that you would tell your mother in these circumstances.

'Don't worry about me. I'll be fine, mum,' he reassured her.

'Okay, wonderful. You know where to reach me then.'

'Yeah. Bye.' And he hastily hung up the phone. Then, '_JACK_!' he snapped, his face blushing red.

'Hey, is that your mask?' Jack questioned, ignoring the other's humiliated exclamation and picking up said object from Ralph's night table.

"Oh, so _now _you leave me alone," Ralph mused. "Geez, guy, you have the worst timing in the world."

'Yeah,' he replied, slightly amused when he saw Jack put the mask on. 'It suits you,' he said. 'It's an improvement, I think.'

'Are you saying that I'm ugly?' Jack asked, grinning.

'All I'm saying is that you look better with the mask _on_,' Ralph said, deliberately provoking Jack. 'Unlike some of us.' He coughed pointedly.

'Sp are you saying that _you _are better-looking than _I _am? Would you _dare _to say that _you _are better-looking than _I _am?'

'Wouldn't I?'

The latter pounced. He began to tickle Ralph mercilessly until the latter was reduced to a heap of laughter and giggles.

'Say it!' Jack said, laughing as well. 'Say I'm better-looking than you are!'

'No!'

'Say it, Ralph!'

'I'm better-looking than you are (1)!' Ralph replied gleefully.

So Jack continued to tickle him, unintentionally rubbing their hips together.

Ralph groaned in response to the sudden frictional sensation and thrust his hips up against Jack's.

Jack ceased his antics and looked at Ralph seriously from behind his mask, which had become slightly lopsided from their ventures.

'Have I told you that I love you?' Jack asked.

'Yes, but I could always use a little reminder.'

'Then I'll be sure to leave you a post-it note.'

'Don't joke! I was serious!'

'So was I. Or maybe I can even have it tattooed right . . . here,' he said, kissing Ralph's forehead. 'Backwards, of course. That way, you'll be able to read "Jack loves Ralph" when you're looking in the mirror. It's smart, isn't it? That way, you'll never forget.'

Ralph slapped Jack playfully on the arm.

'Stop teasing me!'

'Did you just slap me?'

'I believe that I did,' Ralph said, enjoying their playful banter. 'What are you going to do about it?'

'Punish you.'

Knowing that Jack would never intentionally hurt him, the teen was unafraid.

'Oh?'

'Yes,' Jack confirmed, and he kissed the tip of Ralph's nose.

The latter giggled.

'You have a strange form of punishment, Jack Merridew,' he observed.

'Well, I'm just getting started.'

'Not if I can help it.' And just like that, Ralph reversed their positions. He now sat atop his lover, straddling his hips.

'My, this seems familiar,' Jack said amusedly. 'Almost like it's happened before.' He pretended to think about it for a moment. 'I believe that it last happened when we were supposed to be wrestling, but you became aroused instead.' The teen looked down at the evident bulge in Ralph's pants. 'Nothing has changed there.'

The other leaned forwards dangerously, as if he was trying to express a warning upon Jack . . . which he _was_, of course, albeit in a playful fashion.

'What did I say about teasing me?'

'To . . . stop?' Jack grinned. 'Okay, I'll stop teasing you then, and I shall take on a stronger manner.' He closed the distance between them and sealed their lips together.

Ralph hardly noticed when his lover carefully guided him down onto the mattress so that Jack was on the top once more. He hardly noticed when Jack slowly slid his hands along his chest, appreciating his strong build. He hardly notice when the other teen brought his hands back up to run through his dark locks. It was only when they had to separate for air that the latter finally noticed these things had happened.

'Jack . . .' he sighed passionately.

'Ralph,' Jack said in turn, taking the other teen's hand and kissing each individual fingertip. Then he twined their hands together and whispered, 'I love you—I'll _never_ let you go again.'

Ralph smiled in response and drew their hands downwards. He then took Jack's hand and flattened the palm against his chest.

'Do you feel that?'

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

'Your heart?' Jack inquired, feeling the rapid beats beneath his fingertips.

Ralph pressed his own palm against the back of the other's hand.

'My love.' And he brought his hand up to cup the back of Jack's neck, drawing the other teen closer for another kiss.

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The night passed by wonderfully for the two teens and it was soon dawn. So excited that this had happened, so happy that Jack still loved him, Ralph was unable to sleep. Resting an arm comfortably behind his head (while the other curled around his sleeping lover), he reflected on the night's events.

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_Jack's hands mapped their way along his body, taking care to stroke and caress each part of Ralph, the person whom he loved. He never spared a moment to show the latter how much he truly loved him. He murmured softly to the other teen as he kissed a trail down Ralph's torso, pausing at the waist of his trousers._

_'Let's remove these, shall we?' he said, eyes glinting._

_'No,' Ralph said, but his attitude was not threatening. 'You first,' he finished._

_Jack grinned._

_'Of course. Indeed, how could I have been so stupid to have assumed that _you _go first?' he joked. With a flourish, he relieved himself of his pants and allowed them to join his shirt nearby. Clad only in his boxers, he winked at Ralph. 'I know what you're thinking . . . "He's _hot_!"'_

_'You want hot?' Ralph asked. '_I'll_ show you hot.' He reached down to pull off his trousers, but Jack stopped him._

_'Nuh-uh. I'll show myself, thank you very much.' And he slowly slipped Ralph's pants off of his hips, disposing of them a moment later._

_'Well?'_

_'Damn, guy, you sure showed me!'_

_Ralph laughed._

_'I told you that I was better-looking than you.'_

_'You mean, you _are _better-looking than me",' Jack corrected. 'Present tense, babe, not past. But it ain't over yet. I'll win eventually—I'll be hotter than you are.'_

_'Oh, I agree,' Ralph said sincerely._

_'You do?'_

_'Yeah, because you'll be much better-looking than I am when you climax.'_

_Jack blushed._

_'This, from a virgin?' he asked incredulously._

_'Well, maybe you rubbed off on me,' Ralph shrugged._

_'And I still can, right?' Jack teased, grinding their hips together._

_'Definitely,' the brunet moaned._

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Ralph grinned and glanced at the other teen, who was still sleeping soundly; a small smile graced his soft features.

"He must be exhausted by now," he realized. "Even after leaving the masque so late, he still woke up early yesterday to come here . . . to see me."

He looked out the window, where the sun was beginning to shine its faint light through the windows.

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_This was it. _

_The pair had disposed of their boxers long ago to revel in each other's glory. Then Jack had stretched and prepared Ralph for invasion. It was his first time, so the other teen had wanted to make it as painless as he could for the latter. Unfortunately, since their union was unplanned, there was no lubrication to be had. Jack had to improvise with some baby oil that they'd found in the bathroom._

_And now it was the moment of truth._

_Ralph waited patiently as Jack slicked himself up with the oil and positioned the head of his manhood by the other's entrance._

_'I'm ready, Jack,' he said, kissing Jack softly._

_'Okay . . .' Jack began to move his hips forwards . . ._

_. . . Then he stopped just before he could pierce the other teen._

_'What's wrong?' Ralph asked._

_'I . . . I can't do this, Ralph,' Jack said brokenly, and he abruptly pulled away._

_'What? Why not?'_

_'I feel . . . I feel as if we're only doing this because you needed to prove how much you love me, or because I needed to prove how much I love you.'_

_'Which I asked for,' Ralph reminded him, 'but I didn't _need_ such proof. And I didn't want it _because _it was proof.' He sat up and seriously looked at the other teen. 'I wanted it because I wanted to share something special with you.'_

_'But what if you regret it?'_

_'I won't regret it.'_

_'You might not be thinking that in the morning.'_

_There was a pause, then, 'Jack . . . do _you _want this?'_

_Jack's lip trembled._

_'Yes,' he replied. 'Of course I do. You don't know how difficult it is for me to resist such a temptation, to resist you.'_

_'Oh, I'm sure that I have an idea.' Ralph smiled understandingly. 'So don't resist it then.'_

_'It's not that simple.'_

_The brunet sighed._

_'Look, if you're that worried that I'll regret it, then we don't have to do this, Jack. But I'm telling you, I _won't_. I could never regret making love with you. I love you too much.'_

_'But . . . also . . . I don't want to hurt you.'_

_'You won't hurt me, and even if you do, I'll endure the pain . . . for the love that goes with it.'_

_'Ralph,' Jack said breathlessly, and he pulled Ralph onto his lap._

_The latter patiently allowed it and pressed their lips together in a passionate kiss; their tongues danced to the ancient tune of love._

_Distracting Ralph with his tongue, Jack guided the other teen's entrance onto his erection. _

_The latter gasped at the slight pain building in his loins, but he accepted it, just as he said he would._

_'I love you, Ralph,' Jack said, breaking their kiss only for that brief moment._

_And suddenly, the pain became all the more bearable._

_Ralph sighed into the kiss as the distance between them closed and their hips were pressed firmly together. They were one. When Jack began to move within him, the pain vanished, only to be replaced by an indescribable pleasure._

_'Ohh!' Ralph moaned into his lover's mouth, shivering in delight when the latter quickly found his g-spot._

_'I love you,' Jack said again. He guided the other teen onto the bed and slowly began to pump into him._

_Now there were two who were moaning . . ._

_. . . and expressing their undying love for each other._

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'I love you, Jack,' Ralph whispered to the sleeping form, planting a soft kiss on the other's forehead. 'I'll be right back.' After tucking the blanket around Jack, the teen pulled on a pair of jeans and made his way to the kitchen.

Once there, Ralph retrieved a glass from the cupboard and poured himself a glass of water. The night's events had left him rather tired himself, and extremely thirsty. It was so refreshing to feel such cool liquid pouring down his throat at last.

After gulping down his third glass of water, the teen made his way to the back door, still holding the empty glass in his hand.

"It's such a beautiful sunrise," he thought, having pushed back the drapes to glance outside. "I almost feel like an aesthetician when I see the silhouettes of the clouds in front of the sun." He released the drapes and almost dropped his glass with shock when he realized that he was no longer alone in the room; he saw Jack's reflection in the glass door.

'Holy shit, Jack, you scared me,' Ralph exclaimed, carefully placing the glass into the sink before it could come to any harm.

'Sorry,' Jack apologized, trying to stifle a yawn. 'You startled me, too. I didn't know where you were.'

'Sorry,' Ralph said in turn. 'I just came down for something to drink.'

Jack smiled and joined the other teen by the door, where he pushed the curtains aside and looked out.

'It's really beautiful,' he said, glancing up at the glowing sky.

'I was just thinking that,' Ralph said, wrapping his arms around Jack's waist.

'Let's go outside then?'

'Huh?' Ralph inquired, confused.

'It would be a pity to let such a night go to waste.' After unlocking the door, Jack stepped out, bringing Ralph with him. 'It's even better out here, eh?'

'Yeah,' the other teen agreed, nuzzling his lover's neck. 'But . . . shouldn't we be wearing something other than our boxers?'

'It doesn't matter. No one will see us.'

"Easy for you to say," Ralph thought. "It wouldn't matter to you, anyway, since _you're _not the one who lives around here.'

'Look at the clouds!' Jack exclaimed suddenly. 'There are so many!'

'Heh! You sound just like a kid.'

The other teen turned his head slightly to look at Ralph.

'You look like one,' Jack retorted playfully, sticking his tongue out.

Ralph caught the tongue between his lips and sucked it slowly.

Jack closed the little distance remaining between their lips, kissing his lover fully. Then he grabbed a hold of Ralph's hand, which was resting comfortably on his waist, and drew it up to his chest.

'Do you feel that?' he whispered against the brunet's lips.

'Yes . . . Your love . . .'

A slight breeze of wind blew around the affectionate lovers.

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_Ring._

'Who the hell can be calling at _this _time on a Sunday morning?' Jack asked, glancing at the clock.

'I don't know.' Unwillingly releasing the other teen, Ralph went to answer the telephone. 'Hello? Oh, hello, Mrs. Merridew.'

Jack froze.

'Yes, Jack is here.'

Even from across the room, Jack he heard his mother's reply.

'Oh, thank God!' she said at other end of the line.

'Sure, you can talk to him. Just a minute.' Taking the receiver off of his ear and covering the speaker with his hand, Ralph just glared at the other. 'You didn't tell your mum that you were here!' he hissed accusingly. 'She's worried sick about you!'

Jack smiled sheepishly. True, he hadn't told his mother, but it was _because_ he didn't want her to worry about him, so he told her that he was sleeping over at John's house. Bad move. With his thoughts in a boggle about the events of the masquerade, he had completely forgotten to tell his friend to cover for him. At least if he had said "Lee", then the latter would have the common sense to bullshit a reason for Jack.

"Stupid, stupid, _stupid _Jack!" he scolded himself.

'Here,' Ralph said, giving the phone to Jack. 'She wants to talk to you.'

Jack hesitantly answered it.

'Hello?'

'Jack Merridew! Where the bloody hell have you been!'

Jack flinched.

'Er . . . Hi, mum. How are you?'

'Bloody worried, that's what I am!' she snapped. 'I tried calling John's house to tell you that you forgot something, but you weren't there! Not only was he surprised that you were supposed to be there, but—' She stopped herself in mid-sentence. 'Never mind. The point is, you lied. You _lied _to me, baby.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't give me that.'

'But I didn't want you to worry.'

'Then what do you call this?'

'I'm sorry,' Jack said again.

'Come home right now!' she ordered. 'Where are you? I'll come and pick you up.'

'Uh . . . About that . . . I'm in Surrey.'

'WHAT!'

Biting his lip, Jack looked up nervously at Ralph and inclined his head.

Catching the hint, Ralph left the room to allow them some privacy.

'Mum,' Jack began, 'I really _am_ sorry. It's just . . . I really care about Ralph. I screwed things up royally with him and I just wanted to make amends.'

'But he's just another one of your friends, isn't he?'

'Not exactly, mum.'

'What? Is he another boyfriend of yours then?'

Jack started.

'What?' she asked again. 'You didn't think that you could keep a secret like that from me, did you?'

'Er . . .'

'How many boyfriends have you had in the past year?'

'Uh . . .'

'How many girlfriends?'

'Um . . .'

'Exactly. So why would you go all the way to Surrey for just another guy?'

'He's not _just _another guy, mum!' Jack snapped. 'He's the one, the one that I love.' He sighed. 'I'm sorry that I lied, that I hurt you. I just didn't want you to worry about me, especially since you don't know much about Surrey. With any territory that you're unfamiliar with, you _always_ get anxious. You _know_ that's true! You get worried over nothing!'

She remained silent and allowed him to continue.

'But . . . I'm glad I came here, mum. Please, don't make me come home yet.' He heard something on the other end of the line that almost sounded like a sob. 'Mum?'

'I'm sorry for yelling, baby,' she said tearfully. 'I lost my job already . . . For a moment, I thought that I had lost you, too. I gave that job five years of my life, but you . . . I'm giving you my _whole_ life. If something were to happen to you, my only son, I'd . . .' She trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

'I know,' Jack said. 'And I'm sorry for worrying you, but . . . please, mum, don't make me go home yet. I've missed him.'

There was a pause, and then, 'Okay, Jack. Just make sure that you return by Monday. After all, you still have school.'

'Okay . . . Just wondering, though, how did you get this number?'

'I . . . er . . . may have gone through your room to find your address book,' she replied sheepishly.

If he hadn't known how scared she had been for his sake, he would have been angry. As circumstances had it, however, he had known and, therefore, was not.

'Okay. Thank you, mum.'

'For what?'

'For loving me so much.'

'It's all I can do, baby. Goodbye. I'll see you later.'

'Yeah, bye, mum.'

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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: I got this from another fic; I thought that it was really funny! Unfortunately, I don't remember which one. Sorry. (Yeah, that happens a lot.)


	23. Unreality

_Author's Note: Almost done!_

**(23) Unreality**

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'Hey, Jack!' Ralph called as he returned to the kitchen, having realized that the other's conversation with his mother was over. 'What's this?'

Jack emerged from the kitchen a moment later, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw a slip of paper in Ralph's hand.

'Hey! You finally got it!' he exclaimed. 'I slipped it into your mail slot before . . . you know . . . we made up and whatever. It's an acrostic poem of your name.

Ralph read it.

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Romantic

Awesome

Loving

Pleasing

Hysterical

Mine

Athletic

Clever

Prince

Handsome

Emotional

Remarkable

Stubborn

Original

Noble

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'It's beautiful!' he said gleefully. 'I can't believe you did this for me.'

'Yeah, you ruined it, though,' Jack said absentmindedly, having glanced over his lover's shoulder to read the poem as well. 'You must have stepped on it yesterday when you ran into the house.'

'Or _I _may have just missed it and _you _stepped on it when you ran into my house,' Ralph retorted. 'There's always that possibility as well.'

'Although with lower odds.'

The two glared at each other . . . then burst out laughing!

'Heh! I can't stay mad at you long, baby,' Jack said, embracing the other teen.

'Neither can I,' Ralph admitted. 'Not anymore.'

'However, I _do _know that I can most definitely get _pleasure_ from you,' Jack said, winking.

And just like that, something that the twins had once said returned to Ralph's mind.

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_'Our point is that you saw the long-term results of our actions. Jack only lived for the present, for those brief moments of pleasure.'_

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Needless to say, Ralph suddenly felt uneasy.

'What's wrong?' Jack asked, having immediately noticed the other teen's change of attitude.

'Nothing,' the latter responded, but his actions said otherwise, for he had pulled out of the other's embrace

'Yes, there is. Was it something I said?'

'No,' Ralph said, avoiding his lover's gaze.

'Ralph . . . Talk to me . . . please?'

'. . . You really had me fooled, huh?'

'Huh?'

'Is that all that you were after? Am I just another notch in your belt?' he asked, unable to keep the pain from lacing his voice.

'What are you talking about, Ralph? If I recall, _you _were the one who wanted to carry through last night.'

'Pleasure . . .' Ralph said slowly, ignoring the other's outburst. '"I can most definitely get pleasure from you", that's what you said.'

'And I meant it,' Jack said seriously. 'What? Is that wrong?'

'I can't believe this!' Ralph exclaimed, going off at a tangent. 'We just got back together and we're already arguing.'

'I don't define this as arguing unless we both know what's going on,' Jack said, raising his voice slightly, 'so tell me, Ralph!'

'Pleasure! Is it one of your sick, little perversities to sleep with every virgin you meet, or what!'

'Well, at least now I know what you're talking about,' Jack muttered. 'But you have it all wrong.'

'Oh, do I?'

'Yes! It's true that I could get pleasure from you, so I'm not going to take back what I said. But, Ralph, I didn't say what _kind _of pleasure!' Jack raked a hand through his bed-disheveled hair.

'What?'

'The pleasure that I get from you goes far beyond physical pleasure,' Jack explained. Then he placed his hand over his heart. 'I know that this'll sound cheesy, but I really believe that we have a connection! "You are my heart", remember?'

'"You are my heart",' Ralph repeated slowly. 'Yes, I remember.'

'And that's something that I really believe in,' Jack said. 'Don't _you _believe in us?'

Having realized that he had been jumping to conclusions, Ralph allowed a small smile to grace his face.

'Would I be here with you now if I didn't?' he inquired. Then he sighed. 'I am _so _sorry, love. Can you forgive me?'

Now it was Jack's turn to smile.

'There's nothing to forgive . . . I love you, Ralph, and that _love _is where I find my pleasure.'

"Hmm . . ." Ralph thought as they embraced once more. "The twins were wrong. Jack has changed _so _much since we were rescued from that island. He has . . . matured." He closed his eyes, savouring the feel of having his loved one hold him closely. "I was wrong, too. I guess that Jack _does _understand the meaning of love."

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_And I swear_

_By the moon and the stars in the sky_

_I'll be there_

_I swear_

_Like the shadow that's by your side_

_I'll be there_

_For better or worse_

_Till death do us part_

_I'll love you with__ every beat of my heart_

_I swear _(1)

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After sharing a heart-filled kiss, the pair returned upstairs to peacefully sleep the rest of the night away. They both knew that they could not live without the other . . . so why bother trying?

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_Ring._

Startled out of his nap, Mr. Macpherson looked about accusingly to find out who had disturbed the relative peace of the airplane. He was currently flying home in the company's private plane, having completed his business trip the day before. They were to arrive in Britain by mid-afternoon.

_Ring._

"Shut the bloody hell up!" he screamed mentally. "Some of us are trying to sleep here!" Then he shifted slightly in his seat to get more comfortable and closed his eyes once more. It was not all that early in the morning, but Mr. Macpherson was still fairly exhausted from his immense workload. That, in addition to jetlag, was definitely taking its toll on the man.

_Ring. _

Just then, one of the stewardesses came over and tapped his lightly on the shoulder.

'Excuse me, sir,' she said politely.

'Yes'm?' he asked tiredly.

_Ring._

'Sir, I believe that is _your_ cell phone ringing.'

Mr. Macpherson flushed.

'Huh?' He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone.

_Ring._

'Well, I'll be,' he muttered to himself. 'Who could be calling me in these . . . circumstances?' He rubbed at his eyes to clear the last remnants of sleep from them before finally answering the call. 'Macpherson here,' he said professionally, flipping his cell phone open. 'Is that you, Joe?' he asked, assuming it to be one of his colleagues. 'Listen, if it's about the M.S.C. invoices, I'll have Charlotte fax them to you on Monday. As for me, I am officially a free man as of today, remember?'

There was a pause at the other end, as if the listener needed time to regain his bearings. Either that or there was no one there to begin with.

'You quit your job?' the other asked, crossing the latter possibility from Mr. Macpherson's mind.

'Yes, Joe. Really, if you didn't have Emily to write down all those memos for you, you'd forget your own name.'

'But I thought that you were on a business trip.'

'I was just tying up some loose ends.'

'. . . You _are _Macpherson, correct?'

'Yes, Joe.' The man sighed impatiently. 'Stop fooling around.'

'Um . . . I'm not Joe.'

Mr. Macpherson paled slightly.

'Who are you? I demand that you tell me who you are!'

'A friend,' the other said. 'And I need to talk to you.'

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Ralph awoke late the following morning to the sound of his mother's rather shrill voice echoing from downstairs.

'Ralph, dear!' she called out. 'I'm home!'

The teen's eyes widened in horror.

"SHIT! HOW AM I GOING TO EXPLAIN—!"

'Jack!' he heard his mother exclaim in surprise. 'I hadn't expected to see you here.'

"SHIT!" Jumping out of bed, Ralph hastily ran down the corridor, intent on giving his mother a proper explanation for the other teen's presence. Translation: he was going to bullshit his way through and hope that she didn't notice. He had just reached the top of the stairs when he heard Jack's reply.

'It's good to see you again, and I apologize for intruding, Mrs. Macpherson,' he said politely. 'I just arrived an hour or so ago and, I must say, seeing you this early in the morning has certainly brightened my day.'

Then Ralph heard his mother giggling.

'Stop it!' she said, still giggling. 'You're embarrassing me, dear. What would my husband say if he were to hear you talk to me like that?'

'He would probably agree with me,' Jack said confidently.

She laughed again. Then asked, 'Where's Ralph? What kind of a host is he to leave you alone like this?'

'He . . . He . . .' Jack stuttered, obviously searching for a reason.

"Come on, Jack," Ralph urged silently. "You're doing to great so far."

'He's changing,' Jack finally said. 'Yeah. You see, I wanted to surprise him, so I didn't tell him that I was coming. Unfortunately, I came so early that I woke him up, so he . . . he wanted to change his clothes.'

'But you said that you arrived an hour ago,' Ralph's mother reminded him.

Ralph froze in place, and he had a strong feeling that Jack had done the same.

'Are you saying that he was walking about in his nightclothes since then?' she asked.

'Er . . .'

"Uh-oh," the brunet thought worriedly.

Then she suddenly laughed.

'Never mind, Jack. You don't have to tell me. He probably just forgot about his attire when he saw you.'

'Heh! Maybe,' Jack replied.

Ralph breathed a sigh of relief.

"Whew! That was a close one!"

Realizing that he was unneeded, the teen returned to his bedroom to hide any remnants of Jack from it. Then, of course, he changed before going down to meet two of the people he loved the most.

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Hours later, after having shared stories and, in the Macphersons' case, food for lunch, the trio was joined by another.

_Ding dong._

'Who could that be?' Ralph asked aloud.

'Maybe it's your father,' the teen's mother said, 'but that's silly. If it _was _him, then he would have used his house key.'

'Whoever it is, we should probably answer it.' He started to get up, but Jack placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

'Don't worry. I'll get it.' The latter winked. 'You know, just in case it _isn't _your father and is a door-to-door salesman. _I _know how to deal with those guys!'

'But it's Sunday!' Ralph reminded him. 'And what makes you think that I don't know how to deal—?'

But Jack was already on his way to the front door.

'Hellooo?' Jack inquired playfully, sticking his head out the door.

'Erm . . .' The man standing on the step looked at him strangely. Then he rubbed his eyes before looking at him once more. 'Sorry,' he apologized. 'I must have been gone longer than I should have been. I could have _sworn _that this was my house. Sorry,' he said again, turning away.

Jack read the name on his briefcase as he turned.

'Mr. Macpherson?'

The other man turned around.

'Ah, so this _is _the right house!' he exclaimed. 'I'm a bit tired right now.'

If Jack was an anime character, he knew that he would have sweat-dropped right about now.

'Am I right to assume that you are Jack Merridew?' He held out his hand.

Jack took it and shook it firmly.

'The one and only, sir . . . at least, I _think _that I'm the one and only.'

'Ha! I knew that it was you right from the start! I just wanted to see if you'd play along!' He winked.

'Um . . . Right, sir.'

"Strange," Jack thought. "You'd never believe that this guy was such a successful businessman. He seems more like the kind of person who cracks jokes at parties and lights his farts on fire with a lighter."

'It's good to finally meet you, sir,' the teen said, easily meeting his eye. 'I've been looking forward to this.'

Mr. Macpherson returned his gaze evenly.

'So have I . . . Although, now that I think about it, I believe that I had a brief glimpse of you back in London. Am I right?'

'Yes, sir,' Jack responded. 'I was there when you and your family moved out of your house.'

'Ah, yes. I apologize, for it must have slipped my mind.'

'That's understandable. I know that you are a very busy man.'

'I _was _a very busy man,' Mr. Macpherson said.

Jack nodded understandably.

'Of course. But when are you going to tell Ralph?'

'Today,' the man replied. 'And I thank you for not telling him that you knew. I do not wish to be rude, Jack, but I had never intended for you to find out the truth before he did.'

The teen nodded again.

'I have told not told my wife either,' Mr. Macpherson added. 'Have you made mention of it to her?'

'No, sir, and I'll understand if you wish for a private moment with your wife and son now.'

'Thank you, but that is not necessary, Jack.' He clapped the teen on the shoulder. 'I do not think that anyone will mind, especially since Ralph has already made it clear to us what an important person you are to him.'

Jack blushed.

'Uh . . . No, really, sir, this is a family situation. I don't wish to intrude. I'll just wait in the corridor.'

'All right,' he sighed. 'If you insist.'

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'Father!' Ralph exclaimed in disbelief when he saw his father walk into the living room; Jack did not follow.

'Darling! You're back!' The woman rushed over to plant a welcoming kiss on her husband's cheek. 'Why didn't you use your key?'

'I was hoping that _you _would be the one to answer the door,' he said. 'I have something for you.' The man smiled at her and pulled out a small box from his pocket. 'I love you, dear,' he said, placing the box into her hand.

Her eyes widened as she opened it. Inside laid a beautiful diamond pendant in the shape of a fleur-de-lis, her favourite flower.

'Oh, you didn't!' she exclaimed giddily, only calming down long enough for him to drape it around her neck.

'It really is lovely,' Ralph said, admiring the necklace from across the room.

'I don't think I can even remember when you last got me something like this!' his mother said happily.

'Well, I wanted to celebrate,' his father said with a shrug.

The other two Macphersons' froze, albeit they were not entirely uncomfortable.

'For what?' Ralph asked.

'I resigned.'

Surprisingly, the pair acted very calmly about the situation and a tranquil silence fell upon the group.

Then the teen quietly asked, 'Why?'

His father sat down and indicated for his wife to sit down beside him, which she did after a moment.

'They wanted us—me—to move again.'

'Oh,' was all that Ralph could say.

'The agreement that I made with you and your mother was that if I was to be relocated again, then I was to leave you behind.' He looked his son in the eye. 'I . . . I couldn't do it, sport. I don't want to have to leave you behind. I know that I haven't always been there for you, and I know that you've had many difficulties in your life because of me, but . . . if you'd let me have a second chance, I'd really like to . . . to try and be a good father for you., Ralph'

'And what makes you think I'd let you?'

His mother uttered a soft gasp, but it was unheeded by the two.

'Nothing,' the elder male said honestly. 'I know that you really have no reason to, but I'm here to stay in case you ever change your mind. Of course, I'm going to get another job so that I can support us, but I will not work anywhere that will take too much of my time away from you.'

His wife entwined their hands together, offering him her silent support.

'Before I left on my business trip, I had a conversation with my boss and a . . . a revelation, if you will, entered my mind. The amount of time that I spent at the office was double the time that I spent with my family. Sure, I'm glad that I can send my son to the best schools and allow my family a chance to travel around the world, but what use is that if my son hates me?'

'I don't hate you,' Ralph said softly. 'It's just . . . I don't care about that stuff as much as you seem to. All those years, all I—we—' he corrected, glancing at his mother, '—wanted was for you to be together with us, like a family should be.'

'We can still be that family.'

'Can we?' Ralph challenged. 'Whenever I talk to you, I open up my heart, too. I take a leap of faith that you won't bring me down. But . . . I don't know if I can take that leap this time. It's like a gorge! How am I to know that the hopes that you are raising now aren't going to be the same ones that you cast down later? For the longest time, I wanted the three of us to be a family, but I don't think that I even know what a family is anymore. I don't know how to react around you, father. I don't know who you are! You don't know who_ I_ am!'

'Then I'd like to find out!' his father exclaimed, rising to his feet. 'Please, Ralph, just let me find out who you are, what a fine man you've grown up to me. You opened up to me when you told me about Jack, so—'

'That was _one _thing!' Ralph interrupted.

'But that _one _thing was a start!'

'But what if I can't do as you expect?'

'I don't expect anything from you!' his father exclaimed. 'I don't expect nor _want _anything from you except a chance!'

'Please, dear,' the woman said quietly, tugging at her husband's sleeve so that he would sit down once more. 'That's enough.'

It was clear from an outsider's perspective that she wished to remain neutral on the topic, but the pleading look in her eyes when she glanced at her son proved otherwise.

'I'll think about it,' he finally said, looking at the ground.

'Erm . . . Excuse me?' a timid voice said.

The three Macphersons turned to see Jack huddled in the doorway.

'I'm sorry for interrupting, but I couldn't help overhearing,' the teen said.

'That's not a surprise,' the woman said. 'With the manner that these two were carrying on in, the entire neighbourhood would have heard them.'

The two males actually had the grace to look guilty.

Jack, on the other hand, appeared unsure whether he should laugh or not.

'Um . . . If it's not too much trouble, may I speak with Ralph for a moment?'

Ralph nodded. He followed the other teen out of the room and down the corridor, where his parents—hopefully—would not be able to hear them.

'What?' he asked once they had reached their destination.

In reply, Jack slammed his hands down on the wall on either side of Ralph's head and leaned in close.

'Do you not see the opportunity that you have here, Ralph?' he demanded harshly, although in a hushed tone. 'Your father quit his job for _you_! To spend time with _you_!'

'So?'

'So that's a really big deal!' Jack explained lamely; however, the emotion behind it was not lost on Ralph. 'Your father sincerely wants to _be _your father. He wants to be able to know his son.' A faraway look appeared in his eye. 'I don't know my father. I don't know anything about him, Ralph, except that he prefers beer to wine and his favourite pastime is beating his wife and son!'

Ralph winced.

'You have a chance to get to know your father, Ralph, a man whom is much kinder than my own father is. Don't lose this chance. I don't want you to have to endure the pain of regret.'

'But what about . . . us? If I get closer to my father, where would that leave you?'

'I'm not going to disappear, Ralph,' Jack said, apparently confused.

'I mean, what if he doesn't accept us? He knows about our relationship, but he's never actually told me what he thinks about it.' The teen sighed. 'If I get closer to him and he tells me that I can't see you anymore, I don't know how I would react to that. If I get closer to him, I wouldn't want to have to make the choice that would either hurt him or you.'

'Is _that _what you're worried about?' Jack chuckled.

'That is hardly a laughing matter,' Ralph said coldly.

Jack planted a light kiss on his lover's cheek.

'He'll accept us, Ralph. No worries,' he said confidently, releasing the latter from his makeshift entrapment.

'How can you be so sure about that?' Ralph inquired.

As Jack walked away, he tossed a casual reply over his shoulder.

'I already asked him.' He turned around and winked at Ralph. 'You gotta love how your mum leaves those lists of phone numbers for you.' Then he returned to his place on the stairs, where he had been sitting and waiting while the family conversed.

Smiling slightly, Ralph walked into the living room, where his parents were waiting.

'Do you have your answer already?' his mother asked him, apparently surprised.

In response, Ralph went over to his father and embraced him.

Because of Jack, they had become father and son once more. Ralph's father had resigned from his job in order to give his son the one thing that he'd practically been depriving him of for so many long years: love. Now Ralph had the love of two men—one familial and the other intimate. Now he was finally happy.

And that's when an _unreality _became a _reality._

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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: "I Swear", John Michael Montgomery

_Author's Note: Don't go yet! There's still an epilogue!_


	24. Epilogue

_Author's Note: Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me all this way. I know that it took me a crazy long time to finish this fic, but it's finally finished now! Can I get a "woop woop"! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Although it was annoying, I really _did _like writing it. Anyway, thanks to the reviewers, and also to the people who just read it. According to my stats, there were a lot of you. Wink. Now, go on and enjoy the last part of "Unreality", because there will be no more sequels after this. Tear._

**(Epilogue)**

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Ralph had decided to accompany Jack when it was time for the latter teen to go to the train station and return to London.

'You'll call me when you get home, right?' he asked anxiously.

'Yes, I promise,' Jack said, staring at his lover (which would have been rather unnerving for Ralph had it been anyone but Jack). 'God, I miss you already and I'm not even gone yet.'

'Don't joke about stuff like that!' Ralph laughed.

'I'm not joking.' Jack smiled and softly kissed the other teen. 'I really do.'

'I'm not going anywhere, Jack,' Ralph reassured him. 'I'm still here.'

Jack placed a hand on the other's chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart.

'I know you are.'

Ralph returned the gesture. Then playfully asked, 'Do you think I'm attractive?'

'No, I think you're beautiful.'

'Am I in your heart?'

'No, you _are_ my heart.'

'Would you cry if I walked away forever?'

'No, I would die!'

'And do you love me?'

'Yes, Ralph. I will love you until the day that I die, and even then I will refuse to rest until I find you and we are together again.'

Ralph tightened his grip slightly, fisting Jack's t-shirt.

'I love you, Ralph Macpherson,' Jack said, sincerity apparent in his gaze.

'And I love _you_, Jack Merridew,' the other said in turn, vaguely thinking that their dialogue sounding like some sort of cheap drama. 'I love you with all my heart.'

Then the two teens clasped their hands together and shared one final kiss.

_WOOT!_

The train whistled loudly and Jack stepped onto it, not releasing Ralph's hand until the doors closed.

'I love you,' Ralph mouthed once more. And, through the window, he read the words on Jack's lips.

Then the train slowly started to move, carrying his heart away with it.

Ralph did not know what the morrow would bring . . . but, frankly, he didn't care. There were still a lot of clinks to work out in their relationship, especially with Ralph living in Surrey and Jack having financial problems, both of which would affect their relationship, even if on a small scale.

But, frankly, _they _didn't care.

The two teens knew that they needed each other. The two teens knew that they _loved _each other.

That was all that mattered.

Neither Jack Merridew nor Ralph Macpherson knew what the morrow would bring, but they were staking everything that they had on finding out, one day at a time.


End file.
